


From the Ashes

by Aini_NuFire



Series: Feathers and Flames [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Castiel deserves to be loved, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, Dean is a Good Friend, Drama, Emotionally Hurt Castiel, Episode: s10e14 The Executioner's Song, Forgotten Past, Gen, Hurt Castiel, Memory Alteration, Sam Is a Good Friend, Season/Series 10, episode AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-16 21:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8117839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aini_NuFire/pseuds/Aini_NuFire
Summary: When Castiel seeks out someone who may be able to remove the Mark from Dean, he discovers a link to a past that Naomi had taken from him. But searching for answers and a cure will have to be put on hold when Cain begins a rampage to end his bloodline—and Dean.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story came about when TryAgainSugar asked if I would ever write a romance story for Cas. My initial gut response was, "er, that's not really my thing…" Which was the exact same reaction I had when someone requested the kid!Cas fic, and look how that turned out. So when the muse decided it really wanted to play with this concept, I gave in.
> 
> It didn't end up being much of a romance, though. More like a tragic pre-love story. In addition to the slow build, it's also an AU of mid-season 10 and Cain's storyline. So, you know, angst and whump as well. ;)
> 
> Thanks to 29Pieces for beta reading and encouraging me to ignore my doubts and write this fic!
> 
> Disclaimer: Supernatural isn't mine, nor are the lines from episode 10x14 "The Executioner's Song" that will pop up throughout this fic.

 

Castiel drove his car slowly down the narrow dirt road, overgrown branches and bushes scraping the sides of the Continental. The path clearly didn't see much traffic. But if his sources were correct, the person he expected to find living in a cabin deep in these woods was practically a hermit. It had taken Castiel a great deal of time to track down this location, and he wasn't even certain he had the right place. But when it came to _any_ potential lead on curing Dean of the Mark of Cain, Castiel would chase it down to the edge of the earth.

He slowed the car to a stop and put it in park. Through the trees up ahead, he caught the slant of a roof. It was probably best he approach on foot, take a cautious look around. After all, the one rumored to reside here was dangerous.

Castiel shut off the engine and exited the car, careful to close the door as quietly as possible. Then he started down the road toward the cabin. The woods were almost eerily still; any birds or rodents that might have been in the area had fallen silent. Though, perhaps that was because _he_ was disturbing the normal tranquility.

Leaves crinkled softly under his feet as he made his way under the canopy of trees. Castiel paused and roved his gaze down one trunk. There was warding notched into the bark. A glance around showed similar sigils engraved in the surrounding trees. When he came to the edge of the clearing where the cabin sat, his gaze fell to glittering pebbles lined up side by side like pearls of quartz. It was rock salt, actually, and Castiel visually traced the trail in a ring that arced all the way behind the cabin, likely creating a full protective circle. Either someone was expecting unsavory visitors, or they were just hyper-vigilant like Bobby Singer had been. Or perhaps both.

Castiel took a few steps into the clearing, and jolted to a stop as a pressurized whoomp slammed into him from both sides, pinning him in place. He tried to move, but it suddenly felt as though an invisible vice had clamped around his legs and torso. He couldn't retreat, couldn't even move his arm up to retrieve his blade from his coat.

Castiel's heart rate ratcheted up, and he whipped his gaze around frantically for the source. He hadn't noticed before, but the branches above his head were somehow woven together, key intersections tied with hemp to create a camouflaged devil's trap. That wasn't what was holding him, though, obviously. No, that would be the Enochian sigils he spotted carved into two trees, one on either side of him, directly across from each other. Two pieces to a lock, they only engaged when an angel stepped between them.

And Castiel was caught. He strained against the invisible pressure and tried to lift his arm in order to reach his blade, or even his phone, though he probably shouldn't have expected cell service this far out. His chest burned from the exertion, and he felt his muscles quivering from the effort, but nothing was happening. Perhaps if he hadn't been running on stolen grace, he might have been able to push back harder. Or so it comforted him to think in that split moment before a figure emerged from the back of the cabin.

Castiel stiffened, recognizing immediately that he was at this creature's mercy; though, he'd come to ask for her help, and so was at her mercy anyway. Castiel steeled himself as the woman stalked closer. She appeared relatively harmless—save for the crossbow in her hands—dressed in dark jeans and a long sleeve burgundy shirt with a black vest. Her hair was a deep, rich auburn, plaited up in a braid that wrapped around her head.

Castiel frowned. She looked…not familiar; Castiel had never met a phoenix before. But there was something, a niggle in the back of his mind. Sam had once explained to Castiel the concept of déjà vu, and he almost felt as though that was what he was experiencing now, though he couldn't understand why that would be the case.

She came to a stop several feet away, crossbow resting unthreateningly against her shoulder as she roved her gaze up and down him, then at the two trees with the activated sigils simmering slightly. "So, angel," she said, turning back to him. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Castiel would have shifted nervously if he could move. "I don't mean you any harm. I came seeking your assistance."

She laughed. "That's a new one." But then she hesitated, narrowing her eyes, and it was as though her gaze was actually boring into him.

Castiel's pulse started racing again. He hated being vulnerable like this. "Please, I'm telling you the truth."

Her brow slowly furrowed into disbelief. "Castiel?" she asked uncertainly.

His unease escalated, and he desperately wished he could reach his angel blade. "How do you know who I am?"

He knew his reputation had circulated among angels and demons, though he hadn't expected it to reach quite this far. And he knew most of it wasn't flattering…

Her mouth quirked. "Granted, you look different. I admit I hardly recognize you."

He blinked at her in bewilderment. "Have we met?" he asked carefully.

Her expression shifted between surprise and puzzlement for several moments before it smoothed to bland coolness. "I wouldn't have thought a few thousand years was long enough to make you forget."

Castiel was utterly confused now. "I'm sorry, maybe you have me mixed up with another angel." Maybe…maybe she recognized the aura of the angel's grace currently churning inside him. But then…how had she known his name?

She stared at him for a long moment in which Castiel felt as though she were dissecting him again. There was also a strange mixture of mystification, anger, and disappointment in her amber eyes. "Maybe I have," she said quietly. "So if that's not why you came, what do you want?"

Castiel frowned. If what wasn't why he came? "Um as I said, I'm here to ask for your help with something."

She turned away to set her crossbow down. He couldn't tell whether keeping her back to him was a show of disregard or something more private. "With what?"

"Uh, well…" He would have preferred to be freed for this discussion, but he supposed he couldn't really make demands since she had no reason to trust him yet. "I've been looking for a way to cure the Mark of Cain from my friend. It's driving him mad, twisting his soul." It had already turned Dean into a demon once; Castiel suspected Sam wouldn't survive if it happened again.

She snorted and turned back to face him. "You're friends with Cain now?"

Castiel tried to shake his head, but couldn't. "No," he ground out. "Cain passed the Mark onto someone else, a man named Dean Winchester."

Castiel belatedly realized that perhaps he shouldn't have mentioned the name Winchester, which had just as much of a reputation, especially among monster kind.

She regarded him for a prolonged moment. "And why did you come to me for this kind of help?"

Castiel swallowed hard. "When we questioned the Scribe of God, he said 'the river ends at the source.' That could mean the source of the Mark, but Lucifer's in the Cage and unreachable." Not that the sadistic archangel would help, anyway. "But what if he meant another type of source…" Castiel hesitated. "You are the Alpha phoenix, correct?"

She lifted her brows dubiously. "I have no connection to the Mark."

"I know, but you are a source," Castiel said hurriedly, hoping to explain before she grew bored and tried to kill him. If she knew enough sigil work to trap him, he had no illusions that she probably possessed the means to kill him as well.

"And you are by nature rebirth and regeneration. If there is _anything_ you think you could do…" he trailed off desperately. This whole thing had been a long-shot, and Castiel knew it.

He inhaled sharply. "Please. I…I would be in your debt."

The look she gave him was utterly and carefully blank. Castiel was treading dangerous waters here. To be in someone's debt wasn't the same as striking a bargain with a demon, but it could wind him into some trouble later on. It was worth the risk, though.

She didn't respond for several long moments in which Castiel was forced to stand, paralyzed, and wait. Finally, she walked over to the tree on the left and ran a finger over one of the carved lines, leaving a trail of charred bark. There was a small pop on the air, and Castiel nearly collapsed as the pressure that had been bearing down on him suddenly vanished.

The phoenix strode back over to him. "Alright, Castiel. I will see what I can do."

He gaped at her, unsure of what he'd just heard. Never had he thought this venture would have gone so easily. Well, easily being he was only trapped, not injured or tortured.

"Thank you," he said.

She turned her gaze down the road. "Angels drive cars now? I heard that clunker pull up, you know."

Ah. He should have parked further back.

"Well, I don't know how much you're aware of what's happened the past few years," Castiel said, heading for the Continental. "But the angels were cast out of Heaven. We've since reclaimed it, but many wings were damaged in the fall."

Not his, though. His were violently removed along with his original grace, and the stolen grace that gave him access to angelic powers again did not restore them.

"The angels falling was hard to miss," she replied, walking around to the passenger side.

Castiel paused at the driver's door and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, I didn't ask your name before…"

She looked over at him with a stony expression that had cracks of stricken emotion underneath. Which left Castiel baffled and feeling somewhat at a loss, like he was missing something.

"Call me Ryn," she said, and slid into the car.

* * *

The drive back to the main highway was fraught with an uncomfortable silence. Ryn didn't seem inclined to make conversation, not even to ask for more details about the situation with Dean and the Mark.

…And, she had agreed to help rather quickly. Was Castiel unwittingly leading an enemy to the bunker? What if Ryn recognized the name Winchester and was using this as an opportunity to target Sam and Dean? Castiel's fingers tightened around the steering wheel. There had been that phoenix the brothers went back in time to kill, to get its ashes in order to vanquish Eve, the Mother of All. Perhaps the Alpha phoenix wanted vengeance for that.

"Um, not that I'm not grateful you agreed to help," Castiel began, flicking a glance at Ryn. "But, why did you? Monsters aren't typically so giving."

Ryn started shaking her head, and if Castiel didn't know better, he'd say she looked…wounded. "I honestly can't tell if you're serious and pretending, or you're just…" She gestured at him in frustration, and then let out an aggravated noise. "Never mind. Let's just say I owe a debt and leave it at that."

Castiel furrowed his brow. What did she mean 'if he was pretending'? Pretending what? And whom did she owe a debt to that could be paid by helping Castiel or the Winchesters now?

Another disconcerting thought occurred to him, and he swallowed nervously. "Do…do we know each other from somewhere?"

Ryn turned in her seat to pierce him with that sharp gaze again, as though trying to discern his intentions behind what he thought was a straightforward question. Yet he was beginning to suspect that the answer would unlock a torrential floodgate.

"From another lifetime," she finally said.

Castiel's suspicion turned to outright dread. He knew there were… _gaps_ , in his memory. He had no idea just how many times Naomi had dug into his head and washed it clean, and had given up on ever retrieving those lost pieces of himself. Most of them were far away, anyhow. But now, though, there seemed to be one sitting right next to him.

A lump gathered in his throat. "From when?"

"Egypt."

_Egypt_. There was one time for certain where Castiel had confirmation Naomi had tampered with his memories. "The Ten Plagues?"

"Oh, so now you remember?" she muttered.

Castiel's throat constricted further, making it difficult to speak. "No…I don't remember." His voice nearly choked with the pain of the memory he _did_ have—Naomi torturing him as she clawed her way into his mind, dissecting everything he was and putting it back together the way she wanted.

Ryn's hand suddenly lashed out to steady the wheel, and Castiel snapped back to the present to find his hands shaking. He carefully steered the car onto the shoulder before he could crash them. No need to repeat _that_.

Castiel looked over to find Ryn frowning at him. "I'm sorry," he forced out. "I don't mean to be thoughtless. I…my memories…" He took a deep breath to center himself. "My memories of Egypt were wiped by another angel."

Ryn visibly tensed, and Castiel realized he wasn't the only one standing on the edge of a knife here. "Why?" she asked guardedly.

Castiel shook his head. "I must have disobeyed. The angel who…Naomi—she was in charge of 'correcting' behavior. She said I never fully obeyed."

Why was he being so open with this woman? He didn't know who she was, or at least didn't remember, and yet he felt oddly at ease just…talking.

Ryn, however, looked at him with growing horror. "You…you didn't ask to forget?" she asked in a quiet voice.

Castiel was shocked, and somewhat angry at the implication. " _No_. What Naomi did to us—it was torture. She broke us apart like her toys and reassembled us as she saw fit. None of us would ever _choose_ that."

He wrenched his gaze away, heart pounding against his rib cage. He'd thought he'd put it behind him, gotten over it, but the truth was it had just been buried under all the other crap heaped upon his head: Metatron stealing his grace, casting the angels out, trying to restore Heaven, Dean becoming a demon, and now trying to save the Winchester's soul before Castiel's stolen grace burned out like a candle flame, snuffing him out of existence as well. But now the horrors of what he'd been through were surfacing again, reminding Castiel that the wounds were still raw.

"I'm sorry," Ryn murmured.

He sighed. "I shouldn't have lost my temper. It's just…I don't even know why I told you all that. I'm sorry," he said again.

Ryn kept her gaze fixated on her lap. "No, I am." When she looked up, there were unshed tears of anguish in her eyes. "I was your disobedience."

Castiel blinked, uncomprehending. "What?"

Ryn let out a long exhale. "When the angels descended to slay all the firstborn, I decided to flee." She hesitated, jaw working for several long moments before she continued, slowly and carefully. "You intercepted me. Technically, I am a firstborn, being an Alpha. Not to mention I'm not human and…most angels consider me an abomination. You, however…" Ryn shifted her gaze out the window. "You let me go."

Castiel stared at her in stunned stupefaction. Could…could that really have been his act of disobedience that Naomi punished? He hadn't killed a phoenix? But he'd slaughtered hundreds of _children_ in the name of God?

The air was suddenly too close, too sparse. Castiel thrust his door open and stumbled out of the car, sucking in sharp breaths of crisp oxygen in an effort to clear his head. Bracing his hands on the hood, he focused on the minuscule scratches in the paint, anything to beat back the roiling emotions relentlessly bombarding him. He heard the passenger door click open.

"I'm sorry, Castiel," Ryn said, sounding truly devastated. "I didn't know…"

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. What would she have done about it, anyway? "I don't understand. Why…why did I let you go?" He lifted his gaze to meet hers, pleading for answers the angels had never bothered to give him. And maybe the accusation in his tone was barbed, but he _needed_ to understand.

She opened her mouth, but then hesitated. "I had no part in that conflict. And…you were not a murderer."

Castiel let out a disgusted sound and looked away in shame. "Tell that to the rest of the firstborn."

"You were a soldier following orders."

Castiel whipped his head back in surprise at the familiar ring to that statement. How many times had he fallen back on it? Used it as an excuse for his actions, even leading up to the Apocalypse? The way Ryn said it, it was almost as though she'd heard it from an angel first…and there was no condemnation in her tone.

But if he was just following orders, why had he made an exception for her? Castiel began to suspect that there was more to the story, that Ryn had chosen her words with extra care, but he was too overwhelmed at the moment to press, and she didn't seem willing to be more forthcoming. She'd fallen silent, the two of them standing on the side of the road as she waited for Castiel to collect himself.

He finally straightened. "I'm sorry. That was just…a lot to take in."

Ryn nodded in understanding.

Castiel narrowed his eyes in consideration. "So, you're helping me now to repay a debt you think you owe _me_?"

Ryn gazed back at him, expression once again schooled. "Yes." With that, she turned and slipped back into the car.

Castiel didn't know what to make of this turn of events. He'd found a key to his past, but to a dark time he wasn't sure he wanted to remember. Even if he did, though, Dean and the Mark had to come first. Ryn seemed genuinely willing to help, and for now, Castiel would take anything he could get.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel cast Ryn a sidelong look as he drove. They'd just passed from Montana into Iowa and were another nine hours from the bunker. The ride had been silent since that brief stop a while back, with Castiel bogged down in his thoughts and Ryn mostly focused on gazing out the window at the passing vista. Castiel found the silence an odd mixture of awkward and companionable, and he didn't know how to break it, or if he should. Still, Ryn was graciously agreeing to accompany him across state lines to help complete strangers; Castiel could at least be polite.

"So, uh," he started. "Where did you go after Egypt?"

"Many places," she replied. After a moment, she finally turned to look at him again. "I eventually decided there was too much angelic activity in that area, and ended up in Eastern Europe. Lived a quiet life for a while. Until the Bulgarian-Serbian wars that ignited in the 9th century."

Castiel's mouth turned down. Conflict in that region had continued well into the 14th century, and that was just the first set of wars and campaigns. Humanity had a long and brutal history that rivaled even the angels'.

"Where did you go then?"

Ryn shook her head. "I stayed. Fought in the wars. It was my home too that they invaded, so I defended it and the nearby Slavic tribes."

Castiel was taken aback to hear of a supernatural being _helping_ in a human cause. Ryn was…nothing like he'd expected. Perhaps there was a reason after all that he'd spared her so long ago.

She let out a weary sounding sigh. "But as the wars continued, and each side grew more and more barbaric in their tactics…I did eventually leave."

Castiel glanced at her. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

"To live an immortal life is to be a nomad. Or a recluse," she added with a wry smile. "I've tried both. But time, change, and sometimes hunters always catch up with you."

He arched a brow. "You're not easily killed. I doubt hunters would be a threat to you." Certainly not until Samuel Colt invented the gun that could kill supernatural beings, and that was in 1835, relatively recent in all of history.

"Not all hunters are human."

Castiel frowned, remembering the myriad warding at the cabin.

"And you?" she asked. "What have you been up to all these centuries?"

Castiel swallowed. That was a loaded question. "Not much after…Egypt. At least, as far as I know, I spent the next several centuries just watching humankind."

Ryn canted her head in confusion. "If your memory was erased, how do you know about it? Seems counterintuitive to wipe someone's mind and then tell them so."

"I only found out two years ago," he said, annoyed that his chest was constricting again. He'd never talked about what Naomi did to him, not even to Sam and Dean, not in detail anyway. It brought all those feelings to the surface as though they were fresh, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Ryn was watching him carefully. "The angel responsible?"

Castiel clenched his jaw. "Dead."

Naomi couldn't hurt him anymore; he just had to keep reminding himself of that. Though he also hated that he _needed_ the reminder. She was dead and long gone and therefore shouldn't hold any more power over him. And she _didn't_ , as long as he never thought about her, ever.

Ryn leaned back in her seat, facing forward. "Good."

Castiel inhaled a long breath and held it, then let it out. "As I was saying, I watched the earth for a long time, until the First Seal was broken and I took a vessel—this one, actually. That was six years ago. I've…well, been a lot more active since then."

Ryn lifted a delicate brow at him. "Oh?"

Castiel told her about the Apocalypse and standing with the Winchesters against Heaven, and how they succeeded. Then he told her about the Civil War against Raphael and the disaster that was, followed by the Leviathan and then Purgatory. He'd just gotten to the point where Naomi entered the picture when his phone rang, giving him a blessed interruption. He had never spoken at such lengths about what he'd gone through before, and he found it rather exhausting. No wonder the Winchesters never had these kinds of conversations. And yet…it had also felt somewhat good, in a strange release kind of way.

But he was still relieved to have a break. Castiel glanced at the caller ID and hit the answer button. "Hello, Dean."

" _Hey, Cas, we got a lead. Cain abducted a Texas death row inmate named Tommy Tolliver._ "

Castiel frowned. Cain had emerged? "We actually might not need to find him anymore, Dean. I may have a way to remove the Mark." He glanced at Ryn. She'd said she would try, but they hadn't yet discussed what exactly she might be able to do.

Dean was silent for a moment. " _What, really?_ "

"Yes. I'm on my way back to the bunker now."

There was another gap in which Dean didn't respond right away. " _That's…that's great, Cas. But, uh, maybe we should put that on hold for now. If Cain's going around nabbing people, then we need to take care of it. And…_ " He cleared his throat. " _There's only one way to do that._ "

Castiel closed his eyes briefly in defeated realization. The only way to defeat Cain was with the Mark. _And_ the First Blade. A combination that really wasn't good for Dean right now.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

" _Yeah. Look, if you've found something…that's awesome, Cas. That's what we need. And it'll be there when we're done with this, right?_ "

Castiel flicked a look at Ryn again. Well, theoretically…

"Alright," he reluctantly agreed. "Call me if you find something."

" _Will do._ " The line clicked as Dean disconnected.

Castiel closed his phone and slipped it back into his pocket, then looked apologetically at Ryn. "Um, there's been a slight change in plans."

"I heard."

"I'm sorry." He tried to mentally run through his options. He would lose a lot of time and ground if he drove Ryn back to her home in northern Montana. But dropping her off in the middle of Iowa seemed not only rude, but ran the risk that he would never see her again, and Castiel needed her to be able to cure Dean. Could he give her bus fare and directions to meet him at the bunker later? That posed its own risks too, not the least of which was Sam and Dean being furious with him for allowing entrance to someone unsupervised.

"Um, what would you like to do?" Castiel asked nervously.

Ryn's mouth thinned into a thoughtful line. "Cain wreaked a lot of havoc on the world in his time. I was there for some of it." She sighed and shook her head. "What's the plan?"

Castiel couldn't explain the wash of relief he felt at her acceptance, and he took the next exit that would lead them to a large city. "First, we need to find someone with inside information."

* * *

"A bar?" Ryn asked a couple of hours later as they sat parked in an alleyway.

"Dean spent most of his time as a demon in places like this," Castiel replied, keeping his eyes peeled on the seedy establishment across the street. Demons didn't always run around causing mayhem; they reveled in fleshly pleasures as well.

Ryn rested her elbow against the car window. "A man who became a demon and then was cured. Even in my long existence, that's something new."

Castiel couldn't help but smile wryly. "The Winchesters are experts at throwing out the rule book." He sobered a moment later. "But if we don't find a way to remove the Mark, Dean will eventually become a demon again."

Castiel didn't know how many times they could perform the sanctification ritual successfully. It had nearly killed Dean the first time, from the sounds of it. Not to mention Dean had nearly killed _Sam_ trying to escape. Castiel wasn't sure either brother would survive another round if it happened again.

Ryn canted a considering look at him. "You care a lot about them."

"Dean and Sam are my friends. They're…" He hesitated. They were his charges, but more than that… "Family," he finished. Because no matter how many times he screwed up, the Winchesters always gave him another chance.

"You've been through a lot together."

Castiel let out a small laugh. "Well, they do live exciting lives."

"Do they know you're asking a phoenix for help?" Ryn didn't look at him, but Castiel could see the tightness in her posture.

"They won't hurt you," he automatically responded, surprised at just how vehement it came out. "Besides, they know the lines of good and evil aren't so clearly drawn." How many times had they all worked with demons? Or other monsters, for that matter.

Ryn made a low sound in the back of her throat. "Hunters call me a monster because I'm _other_ , not human. Angels call me an abomination because I came from Eve, yet my ashes are poison to her, and so all other monsters born of her hate me." She abruptly turned to face him. "Do you know why I'm toxic to Eve? Purification. She's the Mother of evil creatures and I'm a being of rebirth and renewal." Ryn looked away again, voice dropping a little lower, almost in musing. "Do you think your God had anything to do with that?"

Castiel was momentarily stunned into silence. He had never met a supernatural being that considered itself _not_ a monster. Even pagan deities were unapologetically cruel and capricious at times. And yet, Ryn's points were valid. Castiel couldn't speak as to whether God had a hand in her creation, only that she was indeed different from every other supernatural creature he'd met. Castiel needed to amend his way of talking about her kind. After all, he of all people knew what it was like to be misjudged and misunderstood.

"Is that how you'll try to cure Dean?" he asked. "Purification?"

Ryn briefly flicked her gaze sideways. "In an oversimplified way of speaking, yes."

Castiel tensed with a sudden thought. "It…wouldn't require your ashes, would it?" He didn't know why the thought of having to kill her disturbed him, but it did. That was how the Winchesters had killed Eve, with a phoenix's ashes. One Castiel also suddenly realized was one of Ryn's descendants. And that was not a conversation he was keen on having. Ryn might be furious and decide not to help, but if it came out later, that could make things even worse. Especially if it was revealed that it was Sam and Dean who killed Elias Finch.

"I don't know for sure," Ryn answered, and then tossed him a knowing look. "I've died before, you know. It's actually not that hard, though I will say it will be the very _last_ option I'll consider. I don't particularly enjoy death, even temporary ones." Something dark and haunted flashed in her eyes before she looked away.

Castiel frowned, his earlier thoughts about Finch sidetracked by the notion of death and perpetual resurrections. He…actually had that in common with Ryn.

"I don't enjoy it, either," he said quietly.

She furrowed her brow at him.

"I've died and been brought back several times," he explained. "I believe they're punishment resurrections, fit for me to watch the fallout from my mistakes, perhaps even the chance to fix them. Though, I always seem to make things worse when I try to 'clean up my messes.'" He only used one hand for the air quotes, the bitter memory attached to that phrase tightening his chest.

Ryn's mouth turned down further. "From what you've told me, you've saved the world several times over the past few years. That doesn't warrant punishment."

"Did you miss the parts where I made things worse?" He hadn't even told her about causing the angels to fall.

Ryn snorted softly. "Even the very wise cannot see all ends."

Castiel cocked his head in confusion, a ring of familiarity pinging in the back of his mind. "That's a quote."

Ryn's brows rose. "Yes. And it's true. You shouldn't blame yourself for things you couldn't foresee." She shook her head. "Why did Dean Winchester take the Mark?"

Castiel frowned. "He thought it was the only way to defeat Abaddon, the last surviving Knight of Hell after Cain."

"Did he know about its curse? That it would change him?"

Castiel let out an exasperated noise. "No. But Dean rarely thinks these kinds of things through."

"And would you punish him for it?"

"What? No!" Castiel fell silent as Ryn gave him a pointed look. "It's…"

"The _same_ ," she interjected, and turned her attention back to their surveillance.

Castiel didn't know how to argue with that. He wanted to, wanted to point out that Dean was human and deserved grace, whereas Castiel was an angel and should know better. But the finality in Ryn's tone had stopped him from trying to lay out those protests. And so he, too, returned to watching the bar. He shouldn't be letting himself get distracted anyway.

He straightened when he caught sight of a demon strolling up the sidewalk. Its true face with pits for eyes and a murky black essence were hidden behind the visage of a young man in a leather jacket. He passed a group of young women, his eyes flicking black lasciviously as they walked by, oblivious.

"Charming," Ryn muttered, and opened her door.

Castiel blinked. "Where are you going?"

"To lure him over here," she replied and got out.

"What?" Castiel scrambled out of the car after her.

Ryn canted an odd look at him. "We just got a glimpse of what he has a taste for, and it's not men in trench coats. Besides, a low-level demon can't hurt me. And don't you want to avoid making a scene?"

Castiel frowned. True, he didn't want to cause a ruckus, and without his wings, he couldn't fly in and out to grab the target. Still, the idea of using Ryn as bait made his stomach churn with slight discomfort. "He'll be able to sense you're not human."

"Unless he's met my kind—not very likely—he won't know what I am. Besides, I've become rather good at masking myself."

Castiel still didn't like it. "And if has met a phoenix before?"

Ryn shrugged. "Then he probably won't pass up the opportunity to capture one. Win some points downstairs." Her expression softened. "It'll be fine. You just be ready to subdue him."

With that, she shut her door and headed across the street to the bar. Castiel clenched his jaw, but there was nothing he could do about it now except to wait and hope for the best. He stepped back into the shadows of an alcove in the alley to conceal himself.

The minutes ticked by with annoying slowness. More than once, Castiel considered breaking his cover and storming into the bar to see what was happening, but he held himself in check. The demon may not recognize a phoenix, but he would definitely see Castiel's true form and likely run. And Ryn had a point—a phoenix should be fine handling one demon lackey…

It was strange how concerned Castiel was for her. Perhaps it was just because she was his only hope to save Dean, yet deep down he knew that wasn't it. Maybe, even though his memories had been erased, there were remnants of…something, left over. But what? What had made him spare this creature in the spur of the moment like that back in Egypt?

He heard the creaking swing of the bar's door, and peeked around the wall. Ryn was stumbling out, a glazed look on her face as she waved one arm for balance and used the other to grip the sleeve of the demon's shirt as he helped her walk. She shook her head at him, gesturing as though to casually wave off his assistance. He didn't let go, though, and Castiel could see the lecherous gleam in the dark pits of his eyes as they staggered across the street together. Castiel pressed his back against the alcove and listened.

"I think I'll just lay down in the backseat of my car," Ryn said with a groan.

"How can I be sure you won't try to drive like this?" the demon responded. "Maybe you'd better give me your keys, just to be safe. I'll take you home."

"Oh…that's…I don't know."

They were drawing closer, and Castiel closed his hand into a fist. Then came the sound of someone stumbling into the side of the car.

"Oops," Ryn said. "Um, keys, keys…"

Castiel stepped out of the alcove. Ryn was braced against the trunk of the Continental, the demon standing too close, but his back was to Castiel. Ryn glanced up and caught his eye. Then she slowly straightened.

"Oh, I remember. The angel has the keys."

"The…" The demon whirled, and Castiel punched him across the jaw hard enough to knock him out, at least for a few moments. Castiel popped open the trunk, which had a devil's trap painted on the inside. Something he'd learned from Dean. He and Ryn heaved the body into the trunk and slammed the lid shut.

Ryn leaned against it. "There, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Castiel's mouth quirked. No, that had actually been rather clean and easy. The next bit, however, would not be.

* * *

They found an abandoned building where they could question the demon without his screams drawing anyone's attention. Castiel dragged their captive out of the trunk and hauled him inside the dilapidated store, giving him a rough shake when he struggled. Ryn followed with a coil of rope and waited while Castiel shoved the prisoner into an old chair, then she stepped forward and secured him tightly.

The demon snarled at them. "I know you," he said, glowering at Castiel. "The angel with a busted halo. Have to hunt with mortal backup now, huh? Too weak to do it yourself?"

Castiel withdrew his angel blade, ignoring the verbal barbs. "I want information. Where is Cain?"

The demon's brows shot upward. "Cain? You're wasting your time, I don't know where he is."

Castiel stepped closer and set the point of his blade against the demon's collarbone. "I don't believe you."

Ryn moved to lean against the wall and folded her arms, watching.

"Me and Cain ain't friends," the demon spat. "He kills demons. Low-level guys like me keep our distance."

"You sure about that?" Castiel sliced down the demon's chest, scoring a bright red line that briefly flared orange. The demon's eyes flicked black as he grunted through clenched teeth.

"All right!" he growled. "All right."

Well, that was easy after all. Low-level demons were such cowards.

The guy's eyes flicked back to brown. "He's been seen, past few months, making passes through Bogg's marsh, one county over. No one knows why, what for. Like I said, we keep our distance."

Castiel raised the tip of his blade to hover over the demon's eye. "And that's all you know?"

The demon started shaking against the restraints. "Yes. Yes, I swear."

Castiel let the blade fall back to his side. He lifted his gaze to Ryn, who was watching him carefully. Castiel couldn't tell whether it was with approval or wariness. He also wasn't sure why it mattered to him.

The demon let out an audible sound of relief. Well, whatever Castiel or Ryn felt, they couldn't just let the demon go. Castiel twirled his blade and drove it into the demon's stomach. The guy threw his head back with a horrendous cry as orange lightning sputtered through his body. Then he fell limp.

Ryn finally moved away from the wall to come stand over the corpse. "You just saved a woman tonight," she said to Castiel, and then turned and walked out.

He watched her go, perplexed. Casting one last glance at the dead demon, he hurried after her. They now had a lead to follow up on.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More lines from 10x14; they're not mine.

 

Bogg's marsh was a short drive east, and it was mid-afternoon when they arrived, though the sun was hidden behind a drab sheet of dull pewter. Castiel pulled the Continental onto the shoulder of the backroad they'd taken and turned off the engine. The marsh stretched across several acres, and it might have been prudent for him and Ryn to split up to cover more ground, but neither suggested it.

They exited the car in somber silence and cautiously made their way into the dense woodland. A dank fog settled heavily over the moist, mulch covered ground. Barren trees stretched bony branches up toward the sky. They looked like brittle fingers ready to snap off should a bird even think to alight on one. But there were no animals, just an eerie hush that had fallen over the vicinity.

"Over here," Ryn called softly, just loud enough for his celestial hearing to pick up.

Castiel made his way toward her, coming to a stop as the decaying underbrush suddenly gave way to a massive clearing. One full of mounds and mounds of freshly sifted earth. There were dozens, in fact. Ryn's jaw was tight as she nodded to a limb poking out from one of the piles of dirt. Castiel moved closer and bent down to inspect it. A child's elbow, grimy with dirt and white from lack of blood flow, protruded from the crudely dug grave.

Castiel's stomach clenched as he took in the area with new insight. It was a graveyard. His gaze narrowed on a white shoe, a series of four letters and numbers printed on the sole for identification.

Mouth pressed into a grim line, Castiel straightened and pulled out his phone. Dean answered on the first ring.

" _Hey, Cas, you got something?_ "

"Tommy Tolliver is dead. And Cain has been very busy." Who knew just how many bodies were here; there could be several buried together under each mound.

Ryn picked her way around the edge of the clearing, eyes roving over exposed body parts, a shadow of remembered darkness clouding her expression.

" _Okay, where are you? We'll come to you_."

A sense of unease prickled its way up the back of Castiel's neck. Stiffening, he slowly looked around the burial site. "I'll call you back." He hung up and turned the other direction, only to freeze when he found Cain standing a mere ten feet away.

"Hello, Castiel," Cain said. He flicked an unconcerned glance at Ryn, who stood a little further apart, the three of them forming an oblique triangle. For a long minute, no one spoke.

Then Castiel squared his shoulders. "What have you done?"

"These bodies?" Cain glanced around at the graves, shrugging mildly. "Just cleaning up a mess I made a long time ago."

Castiel frowned. "Cain, I know what you were. But you'd resisted for so long." And maybe he sounded a little desperate when he said it, but he knew how hard it was for Dean to bear the Mark, and how the Winchester had been secretly holding onto the hope that he could control it, just like Cain had all this time. For Cain to succumb now…what hope would there be for Dean if Ryn's attempt to cure him didn't work?

Cain's expression darkened. "What can I say? I got the taste back." He took a few steps toward Castiel. "With Abaddon's army gunning for me, I had to take up arms again. And I liked how it felt."

"Those were demons. These…" Castiel trailed off, horrified and repulsed by what they were standing in the midst of.

Cain crouched down and picked up a stuffed teddy bear matted with mud. He sighed, studying it. "Humans. Eh, the Mark thirsts for all kinds."

Castiel gritted his teeth. "This is a massacre."

"Yes," Cain said with relish. "And soon it will be a genocide." He straightened, and tossed the stuffed animal aside as he started moving closer again. "My children, my whole poisoned issue." Cain canted his head to look up through the trees, tone softening with a musing cadence. "A lot of them out there right now—killers, fighters, thieves." He paused, shrugging his brows as he added, "Some more peaceful than others. But they still carry it—the disease. If the Mark wants blood, I'll give it mine."

"You'll kill them all?" Castiel asked incredulously, stepping forward. "You are Adam and Eve's firstborn. Your descendants are Legion."

Cain appeared unconcerned. "At most, I'm culling…one in ten."

"Of _everyone_."

"I've got time." Cain paused, tilting his chin up thoughtfully. "How's Dean, by the way? I hear he did good, took Abaddon down."

A lump formed in Castiel's throat, and he glanced at Ryn. Her stance was tense as she guardedly watched the exchange.

Cain's brows lifted with understanding. "He's not well."

Castiel swallowed hard. "Even with the First Blade hidden…Dean is losing his fight against the Mark," he reluctantly admitted. "If we don't find a cure—"

"There is no cure," Cain interrupted. "I'm living proof of that."

Castiel tensed. What would Cain say if he knew a potential one was standing only a few yards away?

"But don't worry about Dean," Cain continued. "I'll get to him. In due time."

Castiel slipped his angel blade from his coat sleeve into his hand. _That_ was not going to happen.

Cain's gaze drifted down nonchalantly at the weapon, then back up. "You're not on my list, Castiel." He started to half turn, but then paused, and a small gleam ignited in his eyes. "Though…I do enjoy a good bloodletting."

In barely the space of a breath, Cain whipped out a large serrated knife from the inside of his coat and lunged at Castiel, who brought his blade up just in time to block the blow. Iron and steel collided with a discordant clang, and the impact rattled down through Castiel's forearm. The whites of Cain's eyes were nearly bulging with madness as he bore down on Castiel, forcing the angel to stagger back a step. Castiel should have known he wasn't strong enough to take on the original Knight of Hell. Even with a full load of grace, the Knights' power, bestowed by Lucifer himself, rivaled that of angels.

Ryn charged up behind Cain and bashed a tree branch into his back. The three-inch thick piece of wood snapped in half, but the strike upset Cain's balance, and Castiel was able to push himself out of the blade lock. Cain whirled and flicked his wrist, lifting Ryn off the ground and tossing her several feet away.

Castiel darted in to slice his blade at Cain's chest, but the man was faster. He twisted out of reach, pivoting all the way around and slamming the handle of his knife into the side of Castiel's head. Black spots burst across his vision, and he was unable to see the second blow directed at his ribs. The punch hit with a cracking force, bringing Castiel to his knees. Next came a searing score across his chest, quickly followed by a subsequent slash down the other side.

Gasping in pain, Castiel tried to raise his weapon in defense, but it was suddenly wrenched from his grip. He heard a metallic clatter as it hit the ground several feet away. Castiel struggled to regain his feet, yet before he could, he felt a boot pressed against his chest that shoved him hard to the ground. Cain loomed over him.

"You know, I'm honestly torn between swatting you like a fly, or letting you go so Dean can do it later. And he will." Cain twirled his knife, the jagged teeth glistening with bright red. "He won't be able to resist the call of the Mark forever. Someday, and soon I'll wager, he'll drive an angel blade into your heart and glory in the feel of your blood pumping out over his hands. Though, I imagine it'll hurt something fierce, afterward."

Castiel shook his head in denial, grunting as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. No, Dean was stronger than that, he was… The memory of Randy and those other thugs Dean had slaughtered flashed through Castiel's mind. Dean _had_ lost control. And maybe those men hadn't exactly been innocent, but they were human; they hadn't deserved what Dean did to them…

"Cain!"

Castiel blinked as Ryn snatched up his angel blade.

Cain slowly turned to face her, expression at first dubiously amused. But then his eyes narrowed for a scrutinizing moment before widening. "Aderyn. Well, isn't this an intriguing turn of events. I didn't even recognize you."

"I haven't changed."

Cain roved his gaze up and down her again. "I'd say you have. Joining up with a B-Team angel? And you used to be such a neutral party."

Ryn took a single sidestep toward Castiel. "So did you, last I'd heard."

"One can't run from his true self forever." His expression hardened with suspicion. "What are you doing here, Aderyn?"

"At the moment—warning you to back off." She lifted her chin defiantly, and the angel blade burst into flames. An orange aura began to halo her figure, and her eyes shone with fire as well. Castiel almost thought he could see flickers of silhouetted wings arching up behind her.

Cain's knuckles whitened around the grip of his knife, yet for a long moment they simply stared each other down. In the next instant, Cain had vanished.

Ryn held the flaming blade a moment longer, perhaps to make sure he was truly gone, and then she extinguished the fire and sprinted toward Castiel, dropping down beside him. Her brows knitted together as she took in his injuries.

"Can you stand?"

Castiel could tell by the tightness in her voice that she wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. He didn't feel differently. "Yes."

Castiel pulled himself up with a pained grunt, his cracked ribs screaming their protest. His vision blurred for a moment, and he blinked rapidly to clear it. Unfortunately, that only made him more dizzy. A wet stickiness coated the whole left side of his face, and every breath sent fire through his chest.

Ryn took his arm and slung it over her shoulder. "Come on."

He let her guide him out of the field and away from the brutal massacre that portended Dean's future, either as the next victim—or the next grave digger.

* * *

Ryn kept throwing glances over her shoulder as she and Castiel made their way back to the car. Cain could take her in a fight, but she didn't think he was willing to test his mettle against hers just yet. And of the two of them, she was currently holding one of the only few weapons that could kill her—permanently.

She cast a worried look at Castiel as he staggered out of the underbrush and onto the road. She knew Cain, as a Knight of Hell, had the strength to match an angel's, but she'd seen Castiel fight before, and what happened back there was not what she'd expected.

Castiel caught himself on the roof of the Continental, bowing his head as his chest heaved with labored breaths.

Ryn tried to duck in and get a look underneath his arms; there were still bloody tears in his clothes. And flesh. "Why isn't your vessel healing?" She hadn't seen any special sigil work on Cain's knife. He'd been hunting humans, after all, and didn't need it.

Castiel lifted blue eyes clouded with pain, and for a split moment, Ryn saw beyond their depths to the angel's grace swirling within. She nearly reeled back in shock. She hadn't recognized him when he'd first come to her cabin, but had dismissed it as a natural byproduct of time and change.

This, however, was something entirely different. Castiel's grace was in tatters. Where it had once ebbed and pulsed in a brilliant array of indigo, azure, and silver like the aurora borealis in the north, this grace was a mottled knot of dull blue and sleet. There were pieces of Castiel, his spirit, but the once divine light churned like a poisonous cancer eating away at him.

"What's wrong with your grace?" she demanded.

Castiel dropped his gaze. "It's…not mine."

Ryn's brows rose sharply. "What does that mean?"

A muscle in his jaw ticked. "My grace was taken from me. Cut out and used as an ingredient in that spell that cast the angels from Heaven. I was human for a bit, until…" He let out a strained breath, either due to emotion or his injuries, Ryn wasn't sure. "I was forced to steal another angel's grace to survive."

Ryn didn't even know where to start with that. And she thought hearing about how that angel Naomi had scrubbed Castiel's mind blank was the worst he'd gone through. No wonder he was…changed.

She narrowed her eyes. "It's making you sick."

Castiel's shoulders drooped. "It's burning out. And when it does, I'll go with it."

A thrill of fear shot through her. "How long?"

Castiel managed to give her a sympathetic look. "Long enough to save Dean."

"Is that all you care about?" she said, unable to keep the bite from her tone. The Castiel she'd known had a kind and giving heart, but this dogged determination to the point of self-destruction was a different side to him altogether. But then, Ryn didn't really know him anymore, did she?

Castiel's face pinched with pain. "I have to save him. You don't understand, I've done so much wrong, I need to do this right." He started to sway, and squeezed his eyes shut.

Ryn reached out to brace his shoulder. "Alright, fine. Do you have first aid supplies in the trunk?" She didn't want to get into an argument with him bleeding all over the side of the road. And she didn't want to be here when Cain returned.

Castiel frowned. "I will heal."

"Oh yeah, when?"

His mouth pressed into a tight line.

"That's what I thought." Ryn stuck her hand in his pocket and fished out the keys herself.

Castiel let out a heavy sigh. "You sound like Dean."

"Well, then maybe I'll like the guy." She popped the trunk and tossed aside a few raggedy blankets before she found a small duffel containing bandages. Upon further thought, she snatched up some towels as well and slammed the trunk. "Get in the car."

Castiel took a stumbling step toward the driver's door.

Ryn hurried back over and gripped his elbow. " _Other_ side."

He blinked at her, and the blood painting the side of his face was just wrong.

Ryn let out an exasperated noise. "You are not driving like this."

She steered him around to the passenger side. He was becoming oddly pliant, likely due to shock, another thing that screamed its wrongness in Ryn's mind. She eased him into the front seat, crouching down to get a look at the wounds. They were still bleeding, albeit sluggishly, so she probably didn't have to worry about him losing a pint or more of blood. But granules of grace were dribbling out as though through a sieve. Which took going to a hospital off the table of options.

Ryn dumped the angel blade and supplies on the floor at Castiel's feet, save one towel which she pressed to the side of his head. "Hold that there." Then she slammed the door shut and sprinted around to the driver's side where she slipped in behind the wheel.

"Do you even know how to drive?" Castiel asked.

Ryn didn't dignify that with a response. Turning the key in the ignition, the engine rumbled to life, and Ryn veered the behemoth car off the shoulder to head as far away from Bogg's marsh as she could get. Only once they were a safe distance away would she stop to tend Castiel's wounds. Unless he was correct and they were healed by then.

She wasn't holding her breath on that.

Ryn sped down the highway for eight miles before she finally pulled off at a wooded rest stop. Castiel had been quiet and gradually listing against the window, so she deemed his injuries a priority over getting farther away from Cain's playground.

Ryn parked in the back of the lot under a large maple and turned the engine off. Rather than getting out of the car, she reached across Castiel to grab the duffel from near his feet. Drawing her legs up to kneel on the seat, she gently took his wrist and pulled the towel away from his face. "Let me see."

He blinked dazedly, but grimaced when she tilted his head back to get a better angle.

"Okay, this one looks worse than it is. Keep pressure on it, though, while I check the others." She leaned down and started undoing the buttons of his shirt.

"Cain called you Aderyn," Castiel said quietly.

"Ryn for short," she replied, frowning at the crisscrossed slashes up and down his chest. Were he human, she would have said it needed stitches, but maybe cleaned and bandaged would be good enough to help his failing grace along. In any case, he didn't seem to have needle and thread in the bag.

"It means 'bird,'" he mumbled.

Ryn closed her eyes for a brief moment. It still boggled her mind that he didn't remember. The passing millennia may have blunted the memories and emotions for Ryn, but she'd never forgotten. It wasn't even as though she and Castiel had planned to remain friends after they parted ways in Egypt. She'd just…always thought in the back of her mind that should she see him again, someday…it wouldn't be like this.

Ryn found a bottle of water and poured some of it onto a piece of gauze so she could clean away the blood. Castiel sucked in a sharp breath when she brushed over the lacerations, even though she tried to be gentle.

"How did you know about the grace?" he asked.

A lump gathered in her throat. "It's not how I remembered it."

His brow furrowed, even as his eyes started drooping to half-mast and the hand holding the towel dropped to his side. "My true form burns eyes out."

Against her better judgment, Ryn lifted a hand and tenderly brushed a lock of matted hair away from his forehead. "I'm already made of fire," she whispered.

He struggled to keep his eyes open, pupils dilating with a surge of fear. "What Cain said can't come true. I have to save Dean before it comes true."

Ryn forced back a sigh. "I know." Castiel's devotion to the Winchesters was abundantly clear. She returned to cleaning the gashes, and he lashed out to grab her wrist.

"You saved my life back there, repaid whatever debt you thought you owed me."

It took her a moment to realize why he was so distraught—he thought she no longer had cause to help him. Ryn shook her head sadly, and gently pried his fingers from her arm. It didn't take much effort.

"You were never a debt to me, Castiel."

His eyelids fluttered futilely as he sank further against the window.

Ryn touched his forehead again. "Just rest. I'll stand watch."

"I wish I could remember you," he murmured, already succumbing to exhaustion.

Ryn's heart clenched as he finally sagged into complete unconsciousness. He sounded so lost, so vulnerable. In many ways nothing like the angel she knew, and yet…in many ways just the same. Innocent, curious, kind and open-hearted. But there was also a brokenness to him now, as though the years had aged him the way it did mortals, with heart-shattering burdens and turmoils.

Ryn roved her gaze over his battered and beaten form—both vessel and spirit—and mourned for him.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean slammed his phone down on the study table. "Cas is still not answering."

Sam glanced up from his laptop. "I'm sure he's fine, Dean."

"Yeah, then why won't he pick up the damn phone?"

Cas had said Tommy Tolliver was dead, and that "Cain had been very busy," which could mean a lot of shit, but Dean was thinking it meant more bodies. And then Cas had sounded spooked and hung up. That was hours ago, and he hadn't called back, and sure, Cas was flighty sometimes, but you just don't pull this crap with a crazed, Knight of Hell lunatic running around!

Sam gave him a sympathetic bitch-face. "I looked up the GPS on Cas's phone and he's moving. Looks like he's making his way here."

"Son-of-a-bitch can pull over and at least text us he's alright." Dean plopped in the chair, nerves and anxiety zinging through him like electricity. His forearm itched.

"Maybe he doesn't have good reception," Sam suggested. "Look, he's already in Kansas. If he stops somewhere, we can go meet up with him. In the meantime, I've been looking into Tommy Tolliver, seeing if I can figure out why Cain went to the trouble of springing him from death row just to kill him."

Dean forced himself to focus. Cas could take care of himself, he knew that. He was just pissed because deep down he was freakin' terrified about what Cain might be doing. And what Dean might have to do to stop it.

"And?" he asked, voice gruffer than normal.

"Still pretty unclear. I did find this blotter out of Orlando about his dad, Leon Tolliver. Uh, like father, like son. Convicted felon, fresh warrant for an assault charge, but he's gone missing, hasn't been seen in a week."

Dean tensed, sitting up straighter in his chair. "You think the two are connected?"

Sam shrugged. "I mean, the police just assumed he fled the warrant, but if Cain took Tommy, it might not be a coincidence."

What Cas had hinted at on the phone was starting to scream 'bodies' more and more.

"So, what," Dean said. "Cain's got a vendetta against the entire family?"

"Maybe."

Not that the tidbit helped them much. If Cain had grudges to settle, why start now? Why, when he had been out of the game so long? Dean's throat constricted. He'd been holding onto the belief that if Cain could resist the Mark for _centuries_ , then Dean could learn to control it too. But if it was impossible, if there was nothing but blood and rage in his future…Dean didn't know what he was going to do.

Sure, Cas had said he might have found a cure, but Dean knew better than to get his hopes up. The Mark…it was big, and it was gonna take something big to get it off. But if the cost was too much…well, then Dean didn't want it. And in that case, he'd have to remind Cas of the angel's promise not to let Dean lose himself in the end.

Speaking of which… "Where is Cas now?" Dean asked.

Sam rolled his eyes, but made a few clicks on his laptop. "Still headed this way."

Dean's phone started buzzing on the table and he immediately snatched it up. "About frickin' time," he groused at the caller ID, and hit the answer key. "Where the hell have you been?"

There was a beat of silence on the other end before Cas hesitantly replied, " _Dean, I'm, uh, sorry I missed your calls._ "

At another bitch-face from Sam, Dean put the phone on speaker. "What happened?" he demanded.

" _Cain is attempting to wipe out his bloodline. Tommy Tolliver and…it was a massacre._ "

A knot started forming in the pit of Dean's stomach, and he exchanged a sickened look with Sam.

" _And he won't stop,_ " Cas continued. " _Cain will murder half the world._ "

Dean got past his growing horror long enough to read between the lines of what Cas was saying. "How'd you figure out what he's up to?"

" _I…_ " Cas paused. " _Had a little run-in with Cain._ "

Sam's eyes widened. "Are you okay?"

" _Yes. I'll be at the bunker in an hour._ " The line clicked as he hung up.

"Wait—Cas!" Dean shouted the angel's name like a curse and angrily tossed his phone across the table again. His hands were practically shaking, dammit. What the hell had gotten into Cain? Trying to wipe out his bloodline? What happened to the pacifist who didn't even want to fight demons when they invaded his home?

But, Tommy and his dad were criminals. Maybe Cain was just going after the bad ones… The excuse settled like acid in his throat. Killing bad men wasn't justification for what Cain did—or what Dean did to Randy and those thugs. No, whatever Cain's reasons, they couldn't just sit back and let him run wild on a killing spree.

Dean's stomach churned with bile. He knew what he had to do…Cain had warned him, after all.

He surged out of his chair, needing to move, needing to get the feeling of pins and needles out of his skin. "Contact whatever local law enforcement agency is handling that grave site," he told Sam.

He'd do it himself, but he just couldn't stomach it right now. Not the deaths, but the fear of the Mark fizzling with anticipation at seeing pictures of the bodies, of craving that blood for himself.

Afraid he was actually going to puke up his guts, Dean turned and swept out of the room, ignoring his brother's worried eyes boring into his back. He headed into the kitchen, intending to grab a beer, but changed his mind at the last second. Getting drunk might have been the most appealing, but he didn't need any more influences inhibiting his self-control. So he started chopping up vegetables for a salad instead. Unfortunately, this eating healthy crap just made him more depressed. What was the point, anyway?

He settled on throwing some frozen corndogs in the microwave. After finishing off those, he returned to making that salad. Sam would eat it, and it gave Dean something to keep his hands and mind occupied with. Of course, once he delivered the salad to his brother, he didn't have an excuse not to pick up the slack on research. And the initial reports on that mass grave were not promising.

At least Cas arrived when he said he would, and Dean looked up as the bunker door grated open. His brows rose sharply, however, when Cas walked in with a red-headed woman Dean had never seen before. If that was another angel, so help him…

Dean got to his feet quickly, instantly on guard. Sam stood as well, casting a barely concealed accusatory look at Cas.

Dean didn't bother to be so veiled. "Who's this?"

"This is Ryn," Cas replied. "Ryn, meet Sam and Dean."

The woman nodded, her eyes flicking to Dean's forearm for a brief second. "Hi."

"How ya doin'," Dean replied flippantly, then shot the angel a pointed look. "Cas?"

"She might be able to remove the Mark," Cas explained earnestly.

Dean's eyes narrowed in suspicion. He thought Cas had meant he'd found a spell or something, not _someone_. "You an angel?"

Ryn's lips quirked. "No."

"She's a phoenix," Cas interjected. "And she's here to help." The warning look he gave the Winchesters made Dean bristle.

"A phoenix?" Sam repeated.

"The Alpha phoenix." Cas glanced at Ryn. "She's agreed to at least try to remove the Mark."

Dean's suspicious frown only deepened. Why the hell would she do that? Dammit, what kind of deal had Cas made?

"You can do that?" Sam practically gushed, excitement dispelling any lingering wariness he might have had.

" _Maybe_ ," she replied firmly. "I've removed curses before, and that's what the Mark is. But it's practically the mother of all curses, so I'm not promising anything here." The look she gave Cas at saying that was a strange mixture of sympathetic encouragement mixed with realistic expectation, almost as though she cared about getting the angel's hopes up.

"Okay, what do you need?" Sam asked eagerly.

Dean held up a hand. "Whoa, back the cure train up. You're all forgetting one important thing here—Cain?"

"But Dean—"

"No, Sam. Cain is out there murdering dozens, maybe hundreds of people. We have to stop him, and if we're gonna have any shot in hell, I have to keep…this." His other hand drifted toward the arm that bore the Mark. He swallowed hard. "Just until we get this done."

And he had to hope beyond hope that it wouldn't be too late for him afterward.

Sam looked like he wanted to argue more, but his phone rang, and he moved away with a scowl to answer it.

Dean turned toward Ryn. "Look, I appreciate you comin' down. But this is important."

"I know." She cast a shrewd glance at Cas. "Stopping Cain won't be easy."

A muscle in Cas's jaw ticked, and he looked at Dean apologetically. "I'm sorry I couldn't bring better news, Dean."

He shook his head. "It's not your fault, Cas. And hey, potential cure? That's pretty good news." Even if he was somewhat uncomfortable with the idea of an Alpha helping them. "What do you get out of it, anyway?" Dean asked Ryn.

Cas bridled his shoulders. "Dean," he reprimanded.

"What? I have a right to know what kind of deal you made here." The accusatory barb made Cas actually flinch, and that made Dean feel a little bit guilty. But as much as he wanted to show his remorse, the Mark drank in that flicker of anger and only added gasoline to it. Dean clenched his jaw to keep from letting the explosion off on his friend. He could control it, he could control it…

"I didn't make a deal," Cas said through gritted teeth. "Ryn is…we…"

Dean frowned at the way Cas was suddenly fumbling for words. It wasn't in search of a lie to tell, that much he could see, but more like Cas was struggling to put into human language something that made his eyes crinkle in pain.

And then Ryn put a gentle hand on Cas's arm, stilling him. Dean arched a brow, anger momentarily doused with bafflement at the gentle calm she exuded toward Cas.

"I knew Castiel from a long time ago," she said. "I'm here to help an old friend, that's all."

Dean blinked at the two of them standing so close. He wasn't entirely sure what to make of this. Cas's face pinched with some distraught emotion Dean couldn't identify, though it didn't seem as though it was directed at Ryn being here. It had something to do with her, though. Dean needed to find a moment to pull Cas aside and ask him what the hell was up, but then Sam returned, having just hung up his phone.

"Alright, the sheriff gave me a few more names, some preliminary IDs on the bodies."

The mystery of their guest forgotten for the moment, Dean nodded to his brother. "And?"

"And it seems to fit Cas's story. I mean, there's no way to tell the relation to Cain, obviously, but he's wiping out entire families, one after another."

Dean's shoulders sagged in defeat. "So who's next? Is he done with the Tollivers?"

Sam went to stand over his laptop. "Uh, I think so. I mean, Leon didn't have any siblings or any other children I can see, and Tommy was never married, so I…" He trailed off, clicking a link on the screen and bringing up a window. "Oh, come on. Dammit."

"What?" Cas asked.

"Tommy did have a son, estranged, who lives with his mother in Ohio, uh…" Sam made a few more clicks on the laptop. "…Austin Reynolds, twelve years old."

Dean's gut tightened. "Is the kid still alive?"

He saw Sam open up a Facebook page. "As of an hour ago, yeah. He updated his status." Sam straightened. "But, I mean, come on. It's a kid. You don't really think Cain would…"

"Yes, he would," Ryn spoke up gravely.

Dean's forearm started itching again, and he clenched his fist to keep from reaching up to touch the Mark. "There were old men in those graves, Sam, women. I mean, you heard Cas. It's a fire sale. Everyone must go."

Which meant Dean couldn't put this off any longer. He started toward the dormitory.

"Where are you going?" Sam called after him.

Dean didn't stop. "We know where Cain's gonna be. The kid's in danger."

Sam's footsteps hurried after him. "Okay, so what, we track him down to Ohio, and then what?"

Dean steeled his jaw. "Then I'll do what I have to do. I'll kill Cain."

Sam followed him into his bedroom, but Dean ignored his brother as he grabbed a duffel bag from under the bed and pulled a shotgun off the wall, followed by a .45. Neither were the weapon he really needed, but he felt better with the extra firepower.

"Can we talk about this?" Sam demanded.

"When he gave me the Mark, Cain said that this day would come, that after I killed Abaddon, I would have to come and put him down." Dean had blindly agreed then, just like he'd blindly agreed to take on the Mark. Oh, how stupid he'd been.

Sam snorted. "Great. So you're taking orders from a madman."

"No, he wasn't mad then." Dean paused in his packing, hands fisting in the folds of the duffel bag. "Cain resisted the Mark for a long time, then I came, kicking up trouble about the Blade. I sent him down this path. This is on me."

So much was on him. When was he gonna learn his damn lesson?

"It doesn't mean you have to be the one to go after him," Sam pressed.

"Yes, it does. And there's only one thing that can kill him."

Sam's cheek twitched. "The Blade."

And that's why Dean had to be the one to do it.

Cas walked into the room, placing himself between the Winchesters. "Dean's right," he said, though his tone was heavy with regret. But it wasn't like Dean _wanted_ to do this, either.

Sam gave him a pleading look. "Dean, wielding the Blade against Cain himself…win or lose, you may never come back from that fight."

Dean finally gave in to the urge, and covered the Mark with his hand. It was a death sentence. Had been from the start. "I know." He looked up at Ryn, who had followed them through the bunker but remained out in the hallway. "How would you try to remove the curse? Will it work if I…if I don't come back from this?"

Her mouth was pressed into a thin line, and she regarded him for a long moment. "Removing a curse this deep requires purification. As a phoenix, I can do that—by fire."

Dean's breath caught in his throat. "You'll burn it out."

"I'll try. But…" She let out a long exhale. "That itself could be fatal."

Dean wasn't that surprised; he'd known better than to expect miracles anymore. He nodded slowly. "Well, I'm dead either way, right?"

"Wait," Sam interrupted. "If Dean goes into this fight, if he uses the First Blade, will that make the curse harder to remove? Increase his chances of dying from this 'purification'?"

"I don't know," Ryn replied.

"I'll be able to bring Dean back," Cas spoke up. "As long as the Mark is gone and his soul is free of it, I can resurrect him."

Dean blinked. "Oh, alright then." What was one more resurrection added to his resume?

Ryn's eyes narrowed on Cas, but whatever she was thinking, she remained quiet about it.

Sam, at least, looked slightly appeased. "Alright. I guess we should get ready to confront Cain."

Dean nodded, and pulled out his phone. Time to get the First Blade back.

* * *

Castiel and Sam left Dean alone in his room, presumably to call Crowley and somehow convince the demon to give them the First Blade. Castiel didn't doubt Dean would manage it. Sam still seemed uncertain about the whole thing, but nevertheless went into his own room to pack his gear. Castiel and Ryn made their way back out to the library.

Ryn suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled him into the observatory. "How do you expect to resurrect Dean when your grace couldn't even heal your own wounds?" she hissed.

Castiel stiffened, and cast a look over his shoulder to make sure the Winchesters were still occupied. "My wounds did heal."

She scoffed. "Yeah, right before we got here. What should have been instantaneous took nearly _ten_ hours."

Castiel bristled. "I can still muster enough strength to bring Dean back."

"So you can be the one who dies instead?" she spat, crossing her arms and turning away. "This is not what I agreed to."

Castiel's pulse spiked with a jolt of fear. "Ryn, please. Helping me means helping Dean. I can't—won't—let him fall to this."

"Do they know about your grace?" she asked, throwing one arm out to encompass the Winchesters' general direction.

Castiel gritted his teeth. "Yes."

She narrowed her eyes. "If they're willing to sacrifice you for themselves, then they're not worthy friends to _die_ for."

"You can't tell them," he blurted.

Ryn's brows shot upward. "So they don't know what you're risking."

Castiel took a step closer. "Ryn, please, you don't understand."

" _Explain_ it to me."

Castiel opened his mouth, hesitated, and then lowered his voice. "I rescued Dean from Hell. He was condemned to become a demon until I raised him from Perdition. For him to end up with that fate again…" He let out a shuddering breath. "I would have failed in the one good thing I ever did."

Ryn's eyes wavered with constrained emotion. "You've done other good things, Castiel."

"Maybe," he conceded, but only to placate her. "But all of them will be meaningless if this isn't one of them."

She looked away, jaw tight and expression pinched in distress. He hated to cause her pain, even if it was mild in comparison to what would happen if Dean completely succumbed to the Mark.

Castiel hesitated to draw on their past to manipulate her, but he desperately needed Ryn to stay. "I…know I don't remember, but if our…friendship—" The word tasted strange on his tongue, yet he plowed forward anyway. "—Truly means anything to you, you'll let me do what I have to."

She shook her head as though in denial, but didn't storm off, so that had to mean something. Finally, she turned back to meet his gaze. "You and Dean are a lot alike—self-sacrificing martyrs to the core."

Castiel's mouth quirked ruefully. Dean was a true hero; Castiel was just trying to earn his redemption. "I'm going to die eventually anyway," he pointed out gently. "I might as well do as much good as I can before I go."

Ryn's expression turned sorrowful, and Castiel saw her hand lift a fraction as though to take his. But then her fingers slowly furled into a closed fist and she took a step back.

"Alright, Castiel." Her voice dropped to just above a soft whisper. "As you wish." She ducked around him and back into the library.

Castiel watched her with a frown, that last phrase ringing strangely in his mind, like an echo he'd heard somewhere before. He was too frazzled to place it, though, and it wasn't important. Right now they had to focus on finding and stopping Cain, and then saving Dean from becoming the monster he feared most.


	5. Chapter 5

 

Dean and Sam drove in the Impala to Ohio while Cas and Ryn followed in Cas's Continental. Dean tried not to read too much into that. It wasn't like the Impala would be crowded with four, though it was always a little awkward riding around with a stranger they didn't really trust. Cas may have vouched for Ryn, but she was still a phoenix. Maybe she didn't want to be stuck in a car with Dean's hostility; maybe Cas for some weird reason was being nice to spare her that.

Although, things between her and Cas had seemed tense when they were filing out to leave. Dean glanced in the rearview mirror, wondering what those two were talking about, or if the other car was fraught with as much silence as Baby was. Sam wasn't fully on board with this; he just didn't have a better solution to suggest, and they couldn't wait around for one. Besides, the sooner they killed Cain, the sooner they could try out this potential 'purification.'

The sooner _he_ killed Cain, Dean mentally amended. Because even though they were all walking into this together, it would come down to him to see it through. And that was something he would have to do alone. Might even be his last 'good deed' on this earth.

"So…" Sam spoke up after hours of stewing in silence. "If this works and we capture Cain, then what?"

Dean's jaw tightened. Of course his little brother would have to echo the very thoughts roiling around inside his head. "We'll cross that bridge when we c…" He trailed off before correcting himself: "If we come to it."

The rev of the Impala's engine was like a beloved lullaby, making his chest constrict. He wasn't ready for it all to end. Oh, he'd made the sacrifice play before, or at least tried to. But this…he wasn't just risking losing his life this time. He was risking losing _himself_ , everything he was, everything he ever stood for and believed in, washed away in the taint of the Mark. It was a fate worse than death.

The only light he saw was the faith he had in Cas and his brother not to let it go that far. If Dean didn't survive the fight tonight, one way or the other, if Ryn's cure didn't work, Cas would be there to do what was necessary, even if that was to kill the monster he would become.

Dean cleared his throat. "You know last week, when I said that I would go down swinging when the time came? I meant that I was at peace with that. I just didn't realize the time would come so soon, you know, like right now." Dean swallowed around a lump in his throat. "I'm scared, Sam."

His brother didn't respond, just looked out the window at the setting sun. Dean understood; Sam was scared too.

It was after nightfall when they finally arrived at the Reynolds' small farm. They parked the cars out on the darkened road and walked through a barren field until they came to the edge, several yards away from the back of a barn. A porch light cast a dim halo that barely reached where they'd stopped.

"I'll take a look around," Cas said, and slipped away into the darkness.

Dean tried not to fidget as his gaze roved over the impenetrable pitch of night surrounding them. Crickets chirped here and there, and the occasional firefly winked in and out across the field.

"Aren't you strong enough to take on Cain?" Sam asked, breaking the tranquility.

Dean furrowed his brow until he realized his brother was talking to Ryn. "Sam…"

"What? It's a valid question," Sam retorted defensively.

Dean scowled, though his brother most likely couldn't see it, nor could they read Ryn's expression in the dark.

"I might be," she finally responded carefully. "But in a fight to the death like that, I wouldn't come out unscathed." Ryn flicked a pointed look at Dean. "I'd certainly be too drained to attempt curing your brother of the Mark."

Dean didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. This was his burden, after all. He'd taken on the Mark, consequences be damned at the time. Now he had to face them.

"But if Dean doesn't fight Cain, he can hold out longer—" Sam began.

"Would you leave it alone, Sam?" Dean interrupted. "Ryn is our only shot at curing the Mark. You really want to send her into a fight she's likely to get killed in? No offense," he quickly added.

"None taken," she replied lightly. "Cain isn't to be trifled with."

"Won't you come back to life?" Sam pressed. "I mean, the whole phoenix thing…"

Ryn snorted. "I've heard of the Winchesters' propensity for cheating death. Doesn't mean you should take second chances for granted." She paused for a beat, voice dropping lower. "Even I can permanently die."

Sam huffed in frustration, but at least didn't try to argue further.

Dean sighed. "You heard Cas; he'll bring me back if it comes to that." And yeah, maybe Ryn had a point about them taking the whole 'coming back from the dead' too lightly. "Easier to get my soul out of Heaven or Hell then a phoenix out of Purgatory," he pointed out.

Ryn folded her arms across her chest, looking irked at something. She probably didn't appreciate Sam suggesting throwing her to Cain like canon fodder when she had no vested interest in helping them in the first place.

Cas returned then, moving like a specter through shadow.

"Kid here?" Dean asked.

"He's nearby," Cas replied. "Upstairs in the barn. He's playing with a basketball."

Dean nodded, trying to fight the surreal fog settling over his brain. "Cain will strike soon. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, but soon." He looked at Sam. "And when he does…"

"Yeah, I got it," his brother replied grumpily. "You charge in with the Blade solo." Sam made another disgruntled noise. "And the kid? What, we just watch and wait until Cain attacks? I thought this was a rescue mission."

"We save the kid after Cain shows," Dean said. He wasn't sure whether that was a tactical decision, or some weird subversion from the Mark hoping Cain succeeded before they could stop him.

"We know what Cain's after. That's our only advantage," Cas said, alleviating some of Dean's doubt. "We want to trap Cain, we use it."

Sam shook his head. "A twelve-year-old as bait. I can't believe what I'm hearing."

"Neither can I," Crowley's voice interjected.

They all turned to face the demon as he strolled up to them, hands casually stuffed in his pockets.

"What's the matter, Crowley?" Dean said. "You suddenly grow a conscience? Too good to put a minor in danger?"

"Don't give a damn about the kid. I'm talking about the risk to us." Crowley arched a brow at Ryn. "Who's the groupie?"

"None of your business," Dean replied. "And there is no us. You're here for one reason. That's to hand me the Blade."

Crowley skewered him with a mistrustful glare. "Yeah, about that. Seeing as this is shaping up to be one of those, uh, two-step capture then kill kind of deals, I think your buddies would agree it's better to keep the Blade out of your hands until we've got Cain sewn up, just to be safe."

Dean frowned. That wasn't what he'd had in mind, though…Crowley probably had a point. No need to push himself to the limit before Cain even got here. Dean glanced at Sam, who shrugged. Seemed the Mark and the Blade were two things his brother and the King of Hell actually agreed on.

"Fine," Dean ceded.

Crowley took his hands out of his pockets, looking pleased. "Now, back to this plan of yours."

They would set a devil's trap in the barn. It wouldn't hold Cain forever, but hopefully long enough for Dean to get the job done. And while they couldn't whisk the kid away until Cain showed, they also couldn't let Cain get close enough to actually hurt Austin. Crowley had a solution for that, though, some illusion spell they could use to lure Cain the rest of the way in and then spring the trap.

Everyone went to take their places, leaving Dean and Ryn standing on the outskirts in the dark, the two who couldn't be risked in the initial confrontation. Dean was a corked bottle of nerves and gut-wrenching trepidation. He tried taking deep, meditative breaths to keep his heart rate down. Getting worked up prematurely wouldn't do him any favors.

"If it's any consolation," Ryn spoke up quietly. "Castiel believes you can do this."

Dean scoffed. "Cas has always put his faith in the wrong horse."

She shook her head, almost in exasperation. "Do you know how much he cares for you? How much he's willing to give up?"

Dean blinked in surprise. "Cas? Uh, yeah, he's given up a lot for us."

Rebelling against Heaven the first time, being cut off and losing his powers, fighting a Civil War, which at the time Dean hadn't thought had anything to do with him and Sam, but later he had to admit it did. If Raphael had won, Michael and Lucifer would have been freed and they would've been right back at square one. And yeah, the Leviathan thing was a disaster, as was trusting Metatron…but looking back, Dean couldn't deny that one consistent part in all of those messes was Cas's determination to protect him and Sam.

"What's it to you, anyway?" Dean rejoined. He didn't like the accusation in her tone, like she was somehow defending Cas to _him_ , when Cas was family to Dean and Sam.

"He's an old friend, and I'm not overly fond of seeing him get hurt," she returned sharply.

Dean bristled at the implication. "Funny how he never mentioned he was friends with a phoenix."

Ryn's mouth twisted in a wry moue. "Did he tell you about Naomi?"

Dean furrowed his brow. "That bitch? What does she have to do with anything?"

"Apparently, of the many memories she erased from Castiel, his meeting me in Ancient Egypt was one of them. When he tracked me down to ask for my help with the Mark, he thought I was just another monster." Her expression pinched with regret. "Clearing that up wasn't the most pleasant revelation for him. For either of us, really."

Dean stared for a moment in bewilderment. He hadn't thought about Naomi in a while. And wait a second, Ancient Egypt…that meant Naomi had been screwing with Cas's head for…shit, _thousands_ of years?

"So, Cas trusts you because you told him you were friends way back when? How do I know you're not lying, trying to take advantage of him somehow?"

Ryn's eyes seemed to smolder briefly in the darkness, reminding Dean exactly what he was talking to. "The only reason I'm here is because Castiel asked. Even if he doesn't remember me from back then, I _do_ remember." She seemed to catch herself, and the fire in her eyes dimmed. Her voice lowered, "I am too old to defend my existence to the likes of you, mortal hunter. After I cure you of the Mark, I'll be gone, and we hopefully will never cross paths again." She took a half-turn away from him to stare out at the night.

Dean's mouth turned down as he studied her tense posture. There'd been a slight crack in her voice for that, something that sounded oddly heavy with emotion. If Cas didn't remember her, then Ryn easily could have brushed off their past and told the angel to get lost. Monsters didn't help out of the goodness of their hearts, after all.

So why was she here?

Dean's eyes widened. "Wait, is there more to your history with Cas than you're letting on?"

Ryn didn't respond, didn't even move, like she was holding herself as stiffly as possible lest she give anything away.

Dean reeled back, stunned. There _was_ more? But…Cas wasn't like that. He'd been a stick in the mud when Dean first met him. Taking him to that brothel had been like pulling teeth. The angel had been too shy and awkward to have possibly had some kind of romantic relationship in the past, with a freakin' _phoenix_ , no less. That reaper girl, April, had been his first time…

Except…Cas had been brainwashed. More than once. Taken by Naomi to have his memories erased and reprogrammed to behave like her idyllic version of what angels should be. What if there was a whole other side to Cas Dean had no clue about? And if Cas had hooked up with an Alpha phoenix, Dean could understand why the angels would take issue with that.

He ran a hand over his hair. "Wow. You and Cas."

Ryn shot a dark glower over her shoulder. "It wasn't like that."

Dean frowned. "Then what was it like?"

She shook her head, tilting her chin up at the stars. This far from the barn, the only sounds were the cicadas. Dean knew Sam, Cas, and Crowley were out there, but right here it felt as though they were completely alone.

Ryn's voice dropped to just above a whisper. "He was curious, when we first met. He'd been watching the humans a long time. I think he was worried for their wellbeing when he decided to confront me for living among them."

"Sounds like Cas."

Ryn hummed in agreement. "We struck up a conversation. And then again. And again."

She half-turned toward him, and in the faint halo from the porch light, Dean saw her mouth curve upward in a small, reminiscent smile.

"Since the dawn of my existence, I have been hated and hunted by all things. Castiel was kind and open-minded. The intimacy we shared wasn't physical. It was deeper than that." Her expression morphed into one of sadness. "I have not had its measure since."

Dean shifted his weight in discomfort, regretting steering the conversation this direction. He wasn't even sure which part bothered him the most—that Cas had a life long before he met Dean? That someone else had managed to crack through that callous, soldier of God exterior? Or that there was someone out there who cared for Cas so much, that maybe the angel might leave to stay with her?

Dean cleared his throat. "Does Cas know all this?"

Ryn's mouth pressed into a tight line, and she looked away again. "Sometimes we keep things to ourselves to protect those we care about."

Dean frowned, indignation warring with his urge to leave well enough alone. "He deserves to know the truth."

"A lot has changed since then. He's changed since then." She lifted her solemn gaze to Dean. "It was another lifetime."

Maybe it was, but Dean couldn't help feeling as though Cas _should_ know the truth. He'd lost so much—his dick siblings had taken so much from him. If he had a chance to get some of it back, especially if it was something _good_ …shouldn't Dean stand up for that?

Or, would it cause Cas more pain to learn exactly what he'd lost? You couldn't miss what you never had, right?

A distant crash shattered the silence, jolting Dean out of his thoughts. Shit, was Cain here already? He and Ryn turned to face the barn, listening for any further sounds to give a hint as to what was happening. Dean clenched and unclenched his fist, the echoing thrum of the First Blade calling out to him, knowing it was almost time.

He heard the grating screech of the barn doors being closed. The trap was set. Now they just had to wait a few moments for Cain to walk into it… But then the man himself was suddenly standing in front of them.

Dean stumbled back, grasping Ryn's arm for balance as he gaped in horror. What the hell…this wasn't the plan!

"Hello, Dean," Cain said. "At a loss for words, my son?"

His heart felt as though it was about to hammer out of his chest.

Cain looked at Ryn. "Aderyn, nice to see you again."

Dean's hands fumbled at his waistband. He needed the Blade. _Where_ was Crowley? And Cas? But all Dean heard was what sounded like banging from the inside of the barn and Sam's muffled shouting.

Cain arched a brow, tilting his head toward the noises. "You set a trap for me, Dean. But did you really think I wouldn't notice? Or, let me guess. This is the part where you tell me it's not too late and I can lay down arms, abandon my mission. 'We don't have to fight,'" he simpered.

Dean swallowed hard. Crowley had wanted Cain fully trapped before he'd hand over the Blade, and Cain was not trapped…which meant Dean was probably up shit creek.

"I'll spare us the formalities," he finally managed to say, proud of how level his voice came out. "You're past talking down, Cain, you're fully mental."

"Oh, I prefer to think I've finally gotten clear." He rapped the flat side of his large knife in one palm as he began to pace back and forth in front of them.

Dean exchanged a look with Ryn, but neither of them moved. They were both weaponless, anyhow.

"When I made my bargain with Lucifer, killed Abel," Cain continued. "I released a stain upon the earth, a stain deeper and far more lasting than mere precedence."

"Your bloodline's tainted, so you say," Dean ground out, narrowing his eyes to try to see past Cain toward the barn. Where the hell was Cas?

Cain stopped abruptly. "So I know. Not all killers are my descendants, and not all my descendants are killers, but enough are, enough for me to know that extinguishing them is the least I owe this world." He canted a knowing look at Dean. "Can you honestly tell me that humanity's not better off with fewer Tommy's and fewer Leon's…fewer you's?"

Dean's stomach clenched. That was a dangerous line of reasoning to follow, even if a part of him was inclined to agree. "And what about the kid?"

Cain shrugged. "He could go either way. I prefer to be thorough." He narrowed his eyes on Ryn. "I've figured out why you're here, Aderyn. They think you can remove the Mark. Purification and all that."

Dean tensed. Ryn had made it sound like it would be hard enough to do for one person, let alone two. But how could Dean deny Cain this? Were his crimes enough to hold against him? Because then Dean's certainly were. How much better off would the world be without him in it?

Cain took a menacing step forward. "But why remove the stain from one man, when you can eradicate it from the entire earth?"

Dean opened his mouth to ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, when Cain moved like lightning and clocked him across the head. He hit the ground, vision going even darker than the night. He heard a scuffle and Ryn shout something, but then it was eerily quiet. When Dean managed to blink the black splotches from his eyes, he found himself alone.

"Ryn?" He staggered to his feet and looked around. There was no sign of her, or Cain.

Shit.


	6. Chapter 6

 

The second Ryn's feet touched solid ground outside the void, she twisted in Cain's grip and rammed her knee up into his groin. Even demons felt that one. He snarled in response, his hand still clenched around her bicep, and flung her around into a nearby stone wall with enough force to knock loose some silt from the ceiling.

Ignoring the bone-jarring pain, Ryn dropped to the floor and rolled onto her back. She swung her leg up in a windmill arc that caught Cain in the jaw and sent him reeling back a step. Ryn scrambled to her feet in the cold, stone chamber they'd materialized in. It looked like a steam pipe distribution center for an old, dilapidated building, with rusted pipes running along the ceiling and boilers set around the edges of the brick walls. Nothing was running, and there were even splotches of mold growing in corners of stagnant water.

Ryn whirled in search of an exit, but Cain was on her in an instant, delivering an arm chop across the back of her neck. Her knees hit the concrete floor with a crack. What a time to be without a weapon. She felt her blood quicken with fire, her power gathering to be ignited. Before she could wield it, however, Cain threw an iron chain around her torso, looping it twice. Where the metal touched her skin it sizzled, and Ryn let out a strangled cry as Cain yanked her down to the ground and straddled her.

His nostrils flared with rage as he tightened the chain, the iron searing into her neck. Ryn gritted her teeth. The iron wouldn't kill her, but it sure did sting like a bitch. She tried to buck Cain off, but he was too strong and held all the leverage.

"Shh, shh, shh," he crooned, reaching one hand up to cup the back of her head like a vice.

Ryn forced herself to stop struggling. It wasn't doing any good and she needed to use her head, not her adrenaline. "What do you want?" she ground out.

"I want to rid the world of my stain. And you're going to help me."

Cain wrapped part of the chain around his fist and punched Ryn in the side of the head. White spots exploded across her vision, and before she could recover, she felt Cain's weight lift off her chest and his arms scoop her up. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to dispel the daze, but then she was thrust down on something hard and flat, and the chains around her were cinched tighter. When her senses finally started to return, Ryn found herself strapped down on a large metal container.

Cain stalked around her, twirling his serrated blade and coming to hold it over her. He closed his eyes and began to chant something Ryn didn't recognize, yet as the words rolled off his tongue, she felt the static in the air increase. Molten heat bloomed deep inside her, responding to the call of the spell. Her heart leaped into her throat as she realized Cain was channeling her inner fire.

He lowered his knife to his palm and slit it. "My blood to my blood," he intoned, letting it dribble down the blade onto her stomach. The litany returned to that ancient tongue, but Ryn understood the words. _Bloodline. Purification._

Cain was going to harness the power Ryn would have used to cure Dean…and turn it toward every single one of his descendants, burning them all out in the process.

And there was nothing she could do to stop him.

* * *

Castiel rolled off the truck Cain had thrown him into and staggered toward the barn door where he could hear Sam banging from the inside. Apparently, rather than following Austin right into their trap, Cain had for some reason locked him and Sam in the barn. Castiel's heart thudded with terror for Dean, but instead of running blindly into the night looking for the other Winchester, he forced himself to wrench the barn door from its hinges. Sam practically tumbled out, expression harried.

"Where's Dean?" he gasped.

Crowley appeared behind him, having been in the barn as well. "Didn't I bloody well say this was a disaster waiting to happen?" the demon nearly shrieked.

A twig snapped, and they whipped their heads toward the sound. Dean came lumbering around the corner of the barn, one arm up and rubbing the side of his head. Castiel felt a wave of relief.

"Dean, what happened?"

"I could ask you the same," he retorted.

Castiel's jaw tightened. He'd been unable to weaken Cain like he was hoping to. Something he probably should have known would happen given their last encounter. But that didn't explain why Cain had abandoned his hunt for the kid.

Sam shook his head. "I don't know. Austin ran into the barn and we got him out. Crowley set up the illusion double. But instead of barging in, Cain locked the damn door!"

Castiel looked Dean over. He didn't seem that injured, just a bruise on his temple. If he'd fought with Cain, especially without the Blade, he should have taken more of a beating. Unless…

Castiel swept his gaze out at the surrounding field, fear spiking through him at the nighttime stillness. "Where's Ryn?" She had been with Dean, waiting for the trap to spring.

"Cain took her," Dean said tightly.

"What?" Sam exclaimed. "Why?"

Dean rolled his shoulder, wincing at the action. "He said he figured out why she was here, and then something about how she shouldn't bother curing one man when she can…I don't know, purify them all or something."

Castiel felt his heart drop into his stomach. Ryn was only here because of him, and now she was in danger.

Sam quirked a confused brow. "I don't get it. Cain wants Ryn to cure…his entire bloodline? Can she do that?"

"Pretty sure 'cure' wasn't what he had in mind," Dean said, then lifted eyes full of regret to meet Castiel's. "I'm sorry, Cas."

He slowly shook his head. This wasn't Dean's fault; it was his. Castiel should have been better prepared, should have left Ryn at the bunker. This fight with Cain wasn't hers to begin with. "We have to find them," he said hoarsely.

Crowley cleared his throat, canting his head at Castiel. "And who exactly is your new girlfriend?"

"She was the way to get the Mark off my arm," Dean replied sharply. "Now I'm guessing Cain plans to use her to kill off his bloodline."

"A witch, hm?" Crowley hummed thoughtfully. "Not powerful enough to do that."

"She's not a witch," Dean countered, taking a step closer to the demon. "So you'd better hand over the Blade and let us finish this before whatever Cain's doing tracks you down too. Remember, you're on his list."

Castiel barely paid attention to the lie Dean had apparently told Crowley to get the demon to cooperate. His thoughts were a whirlwind of worry and anxiety. Cain could have taken Ryn anywhere. She wouldn't help him murder half the world, but Castiel suspected she wouldn't have a choice in the matter, especially if Cain had discovered a spell of some kind. Would he need her alive? Or just her ashes? What if she was already dead?

"Cas, buddy."

Castiel felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to find Dean watching him worriedly. Sam was standing off to the side. Crowley was gone.

"We'll find her," Dean assured him.

"How?" He hated how his voice cracked with despair, but it wasn't just Ryn he'd lost—again. If Cain managed to harness her power, Dean and Sam could be struck dead at any moment, and Castiel would be helpless to do anything.

Dean regarded him with an odd measure of sympathy. "She's strong, Cas. She'll hold on long enough. You just gotta believe that."

"You don't even know her," he found himself saying bitterly. Neither did he. And now he may never get the chance to find out—about her, about his own past.

"I know enough," Dean said quietly.

Before Castiel could respond, Crowley was suddenly standing in their midst again.

"My sources detected a strong concentration of power growing not far from here," the demon informed them.

"Great," Dean said, then raised his brows expectantly. "The Blade?"

Crowley glowered at him, but nevertheless slowly reached into his suit jacket to pull out the blade made from an animal's jaw bone. Instead of handing it to Dean, however, he passed it to Sam.

Crowley jabbed a finger at the older Winchester. "Just get it done."

Dean gave a sharp nod. "Now show us where."

* * *

Dean gunned the Impala down the highway toward the industrial part of town Crowley had pointed to on a map. According to the demon's source, whoever that was, a lot of magical energy was being gathered there. They didn't know for sure it was Cain, but they'd find out soon enough.

Dean had yet to feel any tingling or sensations that suggested a spell was being worked to burn him out of existence, but maybe the Mark would protect him from that. He kept throwing concerned glances at Sam, though, watching for signs his brother was about to become a target too.

He also couldn't stop flicking looks in the rearview mirror at Cas, either. The angel had seemed in shock earlier after Ryn's abduction. Cas might not have had his full memories of the woman, but there had to be some underlying connection there. Dean didn't think Cas was even aware of it. It made Dean want to save Ryn even more, not just because he and Sam and half the world were probably about to be eradicated in one fell swoop, but Cas had lost enough, dammit. Dean wanted to be able to help his friend, for _once_.

"Pull over here," Cas suddenly said, going ramrod straight in the backseat.

Dean veered off the road in front of a series of old, abandoned buildings. "What is it?"

"That power Crowley said was gathering—I sense it." Cas was climbing out of the car before Dean had even killed the engine.

Swearing under his breath, Dean scrambled after the angel. The level-headed side of him was urging that they needed a plan before barging in there, but the faint buzz he started feeling in the Mark on his arm said otherwise. They were running out of time.

Cas headed straight for the building in the middle and kicked in the door with enough force that the metal buckled and went flying several feet in. Dean and Sam hurried to keep up.

A quick sweep inside revealed the place was empty, but even Dean could tell something was happening in the vicinity. Cas spun in a desperate circle searching for clues. Dean spotted an orange glow wafting up from a stairwell and gestured silently to it, even though Cain had probably heard their raucous entrance.

No sooner had they taken two steps, however, when Sam suddenly let out a sharp gasp and staggered to his knees, clutching his chest.

"Sam?" Dean dropped down and gripped his brother by the shoulders.

Sam grunted in pain. "Gah, Dean. I feel it—burning."

Dean's adrenaline spiked with terror. He looked up frantically at Cas, but the angel was already rushing toward the stairwell, angel blade in hand. "Cas!" Dammit, Dean knew stopping Cain was the only way to save them all, but he couldn't leave Sam.

His brother pushed something hard wadded in fabric into his hand, and Dean felt the thrum of the Blade rising up over whatever other magic was building on the air. It both called to him and repelled him.

"Go." Sam gave him a feeble shove.

Dean slowly got to his feet and unwrapped the Blade. Once that ancient handle was in his hand, his blood coursed with renewed vigor. The thirst was nearly all-consuming, but then Dean's gaze focused on his brother writhing on the ground. The Mark would get its satisfaction in blood, but it would be on Dean's terms. He turned and sprinted toward the stairs.

The echoes of a fight traveled up to him, and when Dean burst into the basement, he saw Cain grab Cas by the lapels of his trench coat and throw him across the room into a boiler. The metal dented, just as the door upstairs had, and Cas collapsed in a heap, unmoving.

Fear and anger pulsed through him, and Dean charged forward. He registered Ryn, chained down on a metal container, her entire body alight with an eerie orange aura. She was killing Sam. And for a split moment, Dean didn't know who to direct the Blade's teeth to—her or Cain.

But then Cain stepped into the center of the room, drawing his attention.

The man leveled a cool look his way, arching an unruffled brow. "How's it feel, Dean, to be holding the Blade again?"

Dean couldn't help but glance at it. The Mark's song crescendoed, yet Dean beat it back by sheer willpower alone. "It feels like a means to an end," he said.

Cain spread his arms in invitation. "Then do it."

Dean's jaw tightened, and he lunged. Cain blocked the first swing, and the next. Rage billowed up inside him, and with a cry, Dean slashed more furiously. Cain parried each blow with his arms, delivering punches between blocks until he flung Dean backward across the floor.

Dean winced as he rolled to his feet. He glanced at Ryn again, who was still glowing. Cain looked over too and uttered a strange word that sent a pulse of energy through the aura.

_Sam_.

Dean attacked again, but once more each strike was deflected easily, and Cain kicked him in the stomach, almost making him lose his breath. With a gasp of pain, Dean charged. This time he finally managed to sucker punch Cain in the jaw, but just as he followed up with a swing of the Blade, Cain grabbed his wrist, stopping the Blade's momentum and holding it precariously between them.

Cain hardly seemed affected as he flipped some of his hair from his eyes. "That seems a bit weaker than I would expect from you with the Blade," he said, leaning close. Dean's muscles quivered under the strain. "I think you can do better."

Cain grabbed his other arm and hefted him off the ground. Dean didn't let go though, didn't allow himself to be tossed away from the Blade, and as soon as his feet hit the ground, he punched Cain again. Still the guy didn't loosen his grip on Dean's arm.

"Unless…" Cain started, and Dean hit him again, finally knocking Cain back enough for Dean to reclaim full control of the Blade.

Cain turned slowly and ran a hand over his hair. "You're holding back," he sneered, jabbing a finger at Dean.

Dean lunged, first with a swipe of the blade followed by a punch, but Cain caught both his hands, holding him at bay like a child, despite Dean vibrating with explosive energy.

"What is it, Dean? Do you think if you hold back just enough, you won't succumb? That you'll leave this fight the same as you entered!" Cain wrenched him around and Dean hit the concrete floor yet again. Pain radiated down his back, and Dean half rolled in a daze, even as a distant part of his brain was screaming for him to get up.

"Look to my example, boy!" Cain raged. "There is no resisting the Mark or the Blade. There is only remission and relapse!" He stormed over. Dean tried to get up, but another brutal hit had him fully collapsing on the ground, coughing for air.

Cain stepped away, reaching up to push his hair back again.

Dean shakily got to his feet. "You told me that this day would come. You told me that I would have to kill you." Had Cain known he would lose out against the Mark? Or had he merely wanted Dean to stop him before it came to that? Was a part of that man who'd made Dean promise still in there?

Cain regarded him coldly. "Is that so?" He uttered another string of foreign words under his breath. The light emanating from Ryn throbbed, and she screamed, the echo of a screeching bird splitting Dean's ears.

Suddenly it was like a harpoon of fire speared his chest, and with a breathless gasp, Dean's knees buckled and he dropped the Blade.

"I'm afraid you've misunderstood my intentions here, Dean," Cain said, stalking closer. He shifted his eyes to Dean's right.

Dean followed Cain's gaze to the Blade, but no matter how close it was, he was in too much agony to reach for it.

A flash of tan leaped over him, and Dean squinted against the burning pain as Cas attacked Cain with his angel blade. But just like with Dean, Cain blocked the blows deftly and after disarming the angel, knocked him to the ground too. Cain grabbed Cas by his shirt and started raining down punch after punch.

Gritting his teeth, Dean stretched his fingers toward the Blade. There was a burst of strength upon contact, and Dean forced himself up, onto one foot first, then the other. He lumbered toward Cain, who turned to stop him once again. But Cas grabbed Cain's arm and wrenched it back with a crack. Cain's body torqued, giving Dean the perfect opening, and he drove the First Blade straight into the man's heart.

Cain's mouth flew wide in a silent scream. There was no explosion of light as with angels and demons, just a small puff of air and then his eyes rolled back, and the body dropped with a dull thud.

Dean stared, shock momentarily blunting the thrilling hum of satiated bloodlust the Mark was currently drinking in. It would've been worse were he still touching the Blade, but Dean had managed to let go of it when Cain fell, taking the Blade still stuck in his chest with him.

"Dean." Cas staggered upright, swaying on his feet and sporting several bruises and cuts. "It's over."

He nodded dumbly, only then remembering that his brother was upstairs, possibly dying. He whirled toward Ryn, who was still glowing like a star.

Cas stumbled toward her and began ripping off the iron chains. With a gasp, she rolled onto her side and tried to get off the metal container. Cas reached to help her, and she jerked back.

"Don't. I'll burn you." She slid off the edge and crumpled to the floor.

Cas stood over her, looking utterly at a loss as his hands hovered helplessly. "The spell Cain was working…"

"It's stopped," she choked out.

At a clang from the stairwell, Dean looked up to find Sam teetering down the steps. Though he could barely walk a straight line, Sam at least looked okay. He cast a wary glance at Cain's body before hurrying over to them.

"Dean! Are you okay?"

That was not a question he wanted to answer right now. Because no, he was far from okay. Maybe he hadn't turned into a psychopathic killer just from this battle, but Sam and Cain had been right—he didn't come out of it unscathed. The Mark was burbling with glee while a good chunk of himself felt like it was shriveling up and dying.

He jerked his thoughts away from that though and focused on Ryn. "Are you…?"

"Castiel," she interrupted. "You and Sam go upstairs. Now." Ryn squeezed her eyes shut against what looked like a wave of pain.

Cas quickly knelt beside her. "What, why?"

Her hands were fisted at her sides, and if they weren't currently haloed in fire, Dean would think they'd be white-knuckled. "I can't rein back in the energy Cain ignited," she ground out.

Dean stiffened. "But you just said the spell—"

"It's not going to Cain's bloodline." Ryn lifted eyes rimmed in flames to meet his. "But it has to go somewhere." She flicked her gaze to his arm.

"Now?" he asked incredulously.

Ryn made a horrible sound in the back of her throat. "Might as well."

Cas started shaking his head. "But, you're weakened. What if it…?"

"I can do this," she said, fixing her gaze on his. One hand lifted up as though to reach out, but Ryn pulled herself back. "Now go, please!"

"Sam, go." Dean gave his brother a shove, and watched as Cas reluctantly got to his feet and followed. Something told Dean he should have given Cas and Ryn another moment, something private. But deep down he knew there wasn't time.

Once Sam and Cas were up the stairwell, Dean crouched down next to Ryn.

She struggled to push herself into an upright position. "I'll try not to kill you."

Somehow, she sounded completely sincere about that.

"Are you gonna survive this?" he asked.

Ryn's burning eyes were terrifying to look at, and everything in Dean screamed at him to recoil from this _otherness_ , but underneath the ethereal smolder he saw traces of uncertainty. "I don't know."

She lashed out to grip his arm, her palm wrapping around the Mark with searing pain. Dean grunted as the smell of charred flesh wafted up to his nose. Ryn shuddered.

"Take care of Castiel," she said.

In the next moment, Dean felt a geyser of fire get pushed into his arm. It surged through his veins like rivers of molten lava. He threw his head back and screamed. Somewhere he heard Ryn screaming too, and then they both went up like torches.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not seen the premiere yet, but I have plans to watch it later today after work. Not that I'm opposed to spoilers in the comments, though some people might be. Anyway, thanks to everyone who's followed, commented, and left kudos on this fic! I'm glad you've enjoyed it. Also, just FYI that in this AU, there is no Darkness for removing the Mark to unleash. Now for the final chapter...

Sam whirled back toward the stairwell when he heard his brother's cry, but before he could run back down to the boiler room, Cas grabbed him by both arms and held him immobilized. He struggled on instinct, desperate to get to Dean, to see what was happening. Light blazed forth from below like a supernova, and Sam had to jerk away from the sweltering heat of it. His breath caught in his throat. _No_.

Cas's grip slackened, and Sam was able to wrench out of it. As soon as the flare died down, Sam was sprinting into the stairwell, taking nearly three at a time. He barreled into the boiler room, heart jackhammering when he spotted Dean lying prone on the floor.

"Dean!" Sam slid to his knees next to his brother and frantically reached for a pulse. Dean's face was red like he'd been badly sunburned, and his arm was a mess of second and third degree burns. Sam swallowed back a surge of bile. "Cas!"

Of course the angel had been right behind him, and the next instant Cas was crouching down and reaching two fingers to Dean's forehead. Sam had already found a pulse, thank god, but Dean could be in shock from those burns.

Cas's forehead creased with concentration, but slowly Dean's pallor faded to normal, and new skin spread out to cover his arm. An arm completely free of the Mark.

Sam let out a shuddering breath. It had worked. It had actually worked.

Dean moaned, and Sam hauled his brother up into his arms, hugging him fiercely.

"Ungh, S'm?" Dean said, voice muffled against his shoulder.

Sam pulled back. "Yeah. Are you okay?"

"Don't know, am I?" Dean looked down at his arm and simply stared.

Sam couldn't help the half-giddy laugh that emanated from his throat. "Yeah, you're good. The Mark is gone."

Dean lifted bewildered eyes to his, and then slowly smiled as though he couldn't quite believe it. Then his gaze shifted to his left, and something broken entered his expression. "Cas?"

Sam looked over at the angel, who was now kneeling a couple feet away and staring down at a pile of ashes. Orange dust sparkled like micro shards of shattered jewels amidst the charred granules. Sam felt a flicker of guilt at not having even noticed Ryn's absence before. It looked like she had given her last to save Dean, something Sam didn't fully comprehend, but was grateful for nonetheless.

He frowned at the way Cas was transfixed on the ashes, though. "Uh, she'll come back, right?"

Cas didn't say anything for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, there was a ring of grief in his voice. "That amount of energy…I…I don't know."

Dean scooted forward and put a hand on Cas's shoulder. "We can take her ashes back to the bunker. Maybe…maybe she just needs some time."

Sam blinked, flummoxed not only by his brother's suggestion, but the tender sympathy in his tone. Sure, Ryn just saved his life, his soul, but since when did Dean show that kind of gratitude to a supernatural being? Aside from Cas, and there'd been Benny, but Dean hardly knew Ryn.

Cas nodded slowly, his eyes pinched as he looked around the boiler room. "I…I don't have anything to put her in."

"I'll get something," Dean said, and pushed himself to his feet. "Be right back, okay?"

Sam staggered upright and followed his brother upstairs and out toward the Impala. "Dean?"

Dean didn't respond as he popped the trunk and started rifling through stuff.

"Um, there's a fast food bag in the backseat," Sam suggested.

"I'm not putting Ryn in a greasy fast food bag."

Sam's brows rose sharply. "Why not?"

"I just…" Dean braced both hands on the top of the trunk and took a deep breath. "I'm not doing that to Cas."

"What does that have to do with Cas?" Sam was seriously missing something here.

Dean hung his head between his arms. "She cared about him, and I think he cared about her, even though that Naomi bitch apparently wiped his memories of the two of them."

Sam's mouth moved soundlessly as he tried to process all that. "The two of them?" he repeated. "You mean Cas was…with a phoenix?" That was a little beyond his capability of believing.

Dean finally pulled out a wooden box with a sliding slat lid and dumped the special bullets that were inside, heedless of scattering them in the trunk. "Ryn said they were just friends, but the way she talked about Cas…there was more. Shit, Sam, she was willing to _die_ for me, all because Cas asked her to." He slammed the trunk shut.

Sam furrowed his brow. Could that really have been it? He'd been so caught up in the hope of a cure, and then dealing with Cain and worrying over Dean losing himself in that fight…Sam hadn't really considered why Ryn was willing to help them. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth and all that.

"Dean, this isn't your fault."

His brother reached up to run a hand down his face. "I set all this crap in motion, Sam."

"No, Cain's the one who started that spell." And before that it was Crowley, who Sam really wanted to blame for everything. "And come on, we don't even know if she's really dead."

Dean looked up with eyes wavering from grief and the weight of a terrible burden. The Mark itself may have been gone, but Dean would still bear the scars from his time possessing it. "Right," he said gruffly. "Let's go get them and get out of here."

They returned to the boiler room where Sam watched Cas carefully and reverently scoop every last bit of ash into the wooden box Dean held open for him. Sam had a ton of questions, but kept silent. Now wasn't the time or place. Once done, Dean slid the lid closed and handed it to the angel, who gripped it tight to his chest like something to protect.

On their way out, they stopped by the charred stump that had once been Cain's body, the First Blade still sticking out of him, though blackened. Dean's fingers twitched nervously, and he finally reached out to take it. Sam watched, equally on edge, but he knew they couldn't leave a weapon that powerful just lying around. Except that when Dean gripped the handle and yanked the Blade out, it crumbled into dust like chaff on the wind.

The drive back to the bunker was filled with morose silence, dampening the feeling of victory Sam was having over saving Dean. That had been his top priority, as he knew it had been for Cas. But the cost…well, it always came high for them in some way or another, didn't it?

Sam glanced over his shoulder at the quiet angel in the backseat. Cas was still gripping the box close, his gaze aimed out the window, but he didn't really seem to be looking at anything. His face was a mottled mess of bruises and cuts that hadn't healed, and when Sam mentioned it, Cas didn't respond.

It wasn't until they were halfway home that Dean remembered Cas's car back at the Reynolds's farm. The fact that Cas brushed that off with a non-articulate noise made Sam think he should actually be concerned about their friend's state of mind.

When they finally arrived back at the bunker, Cas took Ryn's ashes outside and nestled the box between the roots of an old tree. Sam leaned against the back of the Impala, watching through the open garage door while Dean took their bags inside, until Cas eventually turned to come back in.

Sam cleared his throat. "Is there, uh, anything we can do to, I don't know, help her come back?"

Cas shook his head, glancing back at the tree. "No. It is possible she's too weakened from curing Dean to rise right away. She might just need some time." He fell silent for a moment. "Or she's gone. She might have…might have given the last of her strength to keep Dean alive through the process."

Sam frowned. "Why would she do that? She knew you could bring Dean back if the purification killed him."

Cas looked away, a muscle in his split cheek ticking. "She'd do it to save me," he said, voice cracking.

Sam stiffened, sensing he was on the edge of something here. "Save you from what?" But then his breath caught in his throat as everything suddenly clicked. He'd thought maybe Cas wasn't healing because he was in shock, but what if it was more than that? "Bringing Dean back would've hurt you."

Cas's shoulders sagged with shame and defeat. "My stolen grace is burning out again. I would've had enough to save Dean, but…"

"But not yourself," Sam let out in a hush, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Dean wasn't lurking in the doorway to overhear this. He didn't need more burdens.

Cas shook his head in growing frustration. "I don't know why it's affecting me this way."

Sam felt a pang of grief for his friend. "You cared about her, Cas." More than Sam had realized, but that Dean had guessed.

"How could I?" Cas asked desperately. "I knew her for three days, Sam. She helped me hunt a demon, and then Cain. She stood up to him at that burial site. She agreed to help a complete stranger get rid of the worst curse known to mankind, all because of a past she said we shared. But I _don't_ _remember_ her. Naomi stole those memories. And now I will never know who she was or who _I_ was…" Cas cut himself off as his eyes widened with horror, and he sharply turned away.

Sam's chest constricted. How had he missed all this? He'd been too consumed with worry for Dean, that's what. And he was now wishing his brother was out here after all. Not that Dean was any better at this sort of thing.

Sam moved closer and settled a hand on Cas's shoulder. "First of all, you know who you are. You're Castiel, the angel who stood against Heaven and Hell to defend humanity and free will. You saved the world half a dozen times."

Cas let out a derisive snort, but Sam barreled on.

"And you're our friend, our brother. You want to know why Ryn was willing to sacrifice so much for you? Because the angel she met all those years ago was the same one standing here today—caring, selfless, always trying to do the right thing."

Cas shook his head. "I'm not worth it, Sam."

His fingers clenched around Cas's shoulder. "What are you talking about? Of course you are, Cas. You're worth it to me and Dean, and obviously to Ryn. Don't dishonor her sacrifice by devaluing your life. That's not what she would have wanted."

Cas looked away again. Sam wished he knew how to help, but there just wasn't a way to make this type of pain go away. Sam had driven himself to near insanity with guilt after Dean went to Hell for him. That kind of sacrifice…it was hard for the person making it, but even harder for the one left behind to live with.

Sam gave Cas a light tug. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up. We'll check on her in the morning."

Cas nodded numbly, and they headed slowly for the balcony entrance. Sam hit the button for the garage doors, casting one last look out at the gloaming twilight before the metal panels slid into place with a clang of finality.

* * *

Castiel stood at the edge of the woods, gazing down at the wooden box still set securely at the base of a tree. He'd opened the lid, not wanting Ryn to feel trapped in a coffin when she rose, but he also made sure the box was protected from any wind that might scatter the ashes. There was no sign of resurrection, though.

For three days, Castiel had come out in the morning and the evening and just watched, waited. And each time he finally had to turn away and go back inside felt like he was leaving a piece of himself behind with her. He had to accept it—Ryn was gone.

Sam and Dean looked up from the study tables when he came down the stairs. Castiel hadn't missed the furtive looks they cast each other every day when he came back alone. They were being uncharacteristically patient in all this.

Castiel walked up to the table and shifted in discomfort. "Thank you, for…" He wasn't even sure for what. 'Everything' seemed too small, too trite.

Dean nodded in understanding. "I'm sorry, Cas."

He cleared his throat. "I, uh, have one more favor to ask."

"Anything," Sam said.

Castiel doubted that, but he didn't actually need the Winchesters' help for what he planned. He just…would like their support. "I found a spell to try to get my memories back."

The brothers exchanged another silent look.

"Okay?" Dean prompted.

Castiel tried not to fidget. "I'm not sure if it will work. It was designed to recover memories that were blocked, whether by time or trauma, not ones that were…" He swallowed. "Completely erased. I also don't know how the spell is supposed to function, or for how long, so if I could use one of the bedrooms…?" It would be better to perform the casting somewhere safe and protected, but he could always ward a motel room.

Sam frowned. "Is it dangerous?"

"It will only work on the caster," he assured them.

Dean scowled, pushing himself up out of his chair. "He meant for you."

Castiel opened his mouth, but hesitated. He really didn't know what to expect with this. As he'd said, the spell wasn't meant to retrieve memories wiped by a sadistic angel. But it was the only recourse he had.

"It shouldn't kill me," he said carefully.

Now Sam was up and out of his seat. "What about your fading grace? Will this spell take more out of you, or what if the grace isn't strong enough to handle it?"

Castiel drew his shoulders back. "It's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Well, I'm not," Dean interjected sharply. "Let's look for a way to fix your grace, and then you can do this spell."

Castiel shook his head. "There is no way to fix it, Dean. This grace isn't mine and it's burning out. And I will not murder another of my brethren just to prolong my own life another few months."

"Cas, we're sitting in the mother load of supernatural lore," Sam pressed, gesturing to the library. "There has to be something we can use to help you. Just give us time."

"I don't have time, Sam." Castiel instantly regretted his sharp tone, and gave the brothers an apologetic look. "The grace is already fading. The longer I wait to do this, the more chance it won't work. And I…" He took a deep breath. "I _need_ to do this."

Sam kept looking at him in desperate protest while Dean pushed away from the table and started to pace.

"I'm not asking for your permission," Castiel said, carefully neutral. He was doing this, no matter what they said. "But, I am asking for your support."

Sam dropped his gaze to the floor, but then looked to his brother.

Dean was shaking his head, expression pinched with reluctance and uncertainty. "You want me to just stand back and watch you die?"

Castiel softened his tone. "I'm going to die one way or the other, Dean. Nothing will change that. There is no great evil threatening the world at the moment, and I thought…I might be selfish for once." He flicked a look at Sam, who just gazed back at him sadly.

"It's not selfish, Cas," the younger Winchester said quietly.

Dean ran a hand down his face. "Okay, fine. We do this spell." He jabbed a finger at Castiel. "But I'm not gonna stop looking for a way to fix your grace."

Castiel's mouth quirked upward in a small smile. "I didn't think you would. Thank you, Dean." He nodded to Sam. "Thank you, Sam."

Sam nodded in return. "Okay, tell us what you need for the spell."

Castiel felt a wash of relief and gratitude. He'd been hoping he could do this in the bunker—among family. His thoughts briefly shifted to the box of ashes outside. One way or the other, he would see her again.

* * *

The woods were still under the hush that had fallen over it. Somewhere in the distance a falcon let out a piercing cry, a strident, heralding call. Underneath an aged oak, paper thin ivy rustled from a disturbance on the air. A single yellowing leaf detached from the branches above and floated toward the ground where it alighted next to a small wooden box. Something crackled and popped, and a tendril of flame curled up and over the slats. Sunlight lanced through the canopy of green, golden shards striking the ashes within and igniting the glittering dust into pulsing crystals. Bands of fire arched up and out, branching into wings.

A bird screeched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued… Tune in Monday for the start of the sequel, which picks up right where this left off. Until next time, have a great weekend!


End file.
